Masquerade
by poxelda
Summary: While visiting a carnival the team finds that there is much more to it than fun and games. Will they be able to save Jack in time? warning for violence and language
1. Chapter 1

******** Hello everybody! I apologize to everyone who was following Nightmare; It just wasn't working, I have put it on the back burner for now, it is still in the works! Instead, I have decided to turn my evil talons on Jack for awhile. ******  
**

Something about the carnival sent alarm bells jangling in MacGyver's head. It wasn't the appearance; it looked like every other amusement park he'd ever seen. In the dim light of the coming storm, the bright lights of the rides twinkled like any other carnival Mac had ever been to, but Mac could feel a sense of unease slosh around the pit of his stomach. As always, Jack could pick up on his glumness. Jack grinned.

"Are you still mad about losing?" Mac shifted his gaze to his best friend, partner, and current driver of another disastrous rental-a lemon yellow Prius. Jack had insisted the rental agency had made a mistake. The others had spent most of the three-hour drive from Denver to the small town of Owensville. Heckling him, he was glad to spread the love around finally.

"Of course not," Mac growled. He hadn't wanted to come on the trip at all. The last mission had left him tired and recovering from a deep bullet graze along his ribcage, and according to the others broody. Bozer had pushed for the trip because there was a film convention in the small town. Jack and Riley had no real interest in the movies but wanted to get Mac out of the house. Mac had adamantly refused. Jack knew what buttons to push, of course, he, Bozer, and even Riley ganged up on Mac and took mother-henning to a whole new cosmic level. Mac soon tired of it and to prove his healing so they could all back the hell off, Mac had unwisely challenged Jack to a game of one on one. Jack tried not to crow too much because he knew Mac was hurting, but if he didn't flip the younger man a little crap he'd be suspicious right? Mac abetted by the unfaithful Bozer and Riley had more than made up for it in their ribbing about the car.

"Nah, Jack, Mac's always had a thing about carnivals and circuses." Bozer piped up from the backseat. Jack glanced over at Mac with an eyebrow raised. Mac shot Bozer a glare then resumed his scowling out the window. 

"Really? I love carnivals!" Riley piped up. She was almost bouncing in the back seat beside Bozer. They had all been given free tickets to Mr. Punch's Funland which was purported to be the largest permanent carnival in Colorado. They had stayed an extra day so she could go. She said that her happiest memories had been of trips to a small festival that her mom (and Jack, for awhile) had taken her to every year. Jack with a softness in his dark eyes had been delighted to bring back that memory for her. Bozer, still on an excited high from meeting some of the biggest names in cinema who spoke while watching their films loved the idea. Mac had been the only holdout. He had participated and tried to be cheerful for the others, mostly to keep them off his back, but had still been quiet the entire weekend. He did get excited when looking at the cameras and equipment the filmmakers used. The other three took it as a win. Mac had just gone with them on the carnival. It beat sitting around the hotel by himself.

"Yeah, he's never gone to one unless his grandpa or I dragged him to one." Mac huffed and shook his head.

"Really? Why is that? I'd think you could ace the games." Jack asked sending Mac a slightly concerned look. He knew they'd pushed Mac to the limit of his tolerance this weekend; Jack didn't want to pile on. Mac turned, his laser glare swept through Jack and Bozer. It would have included Riley, but it hurt too much to turn that far.

"I can. I am just tired."

"And grumpy," Riley said. Mac turned his gaze to the scenery-not that there was much to see, tarred road, pine trees and tall sloped dark stone.

"C'mon Mac, you know you have a thing about fairs," Bozer began his voice unrelentingly, "or is it just clowns." Mac turned so fast to face Bozer that he closed his eyes and turned forward again slowly breathing holding his side. Jack frowned. His partner looked genuinely upset.

"Clowns? What about clowns?" Jack asked. Even though there was no teasing in his tone, Jack got a furious scowl.

"Don't tell me you have coulrophobia?" Riley said, surprise in her voice. She knew Mac had a fear of heights but fear of clowns? It was just so random.

"What's callo-whatever?" Jack looked in his rearview mirror at Riley.

"Clown phobia!" Bozer offered with a knowing grin. "Mac used to freak out every time he saw one, even running away from one of my birthday party's to get away from one." Mac rolled his eyes.

"Ok, First, that isn't why I left, that guy was a terrible clown," Mac met Jack's amusement, "he couldn't even make a balloon elephant." Jack laughed imagining child-Mac's indignation. Knowing how good he was with paperclips, Jack wondered what Mac could do with balloons. He told himself to find out after they got back. "Second, coulrophobia isn't even a valid diagnosis according to the American Psychological Association, and third, I'm not afraid of them...they're just, creepy." Mac closed his eyes and couldn't suppress a shudder. Jack nodded.

"Ah, ok, whatever you say, man. I get it I feel the same way about robots. You never know what they're up to with those fake faces." Mac scowled at Jack.

"No, it's not the same at all. I'm not afraid of clowns taking over the world, and I don't irrationally punch one when it sits up on the table." It was Jack's turn to sigh and glare out the window.

"One time and Sparky startled me that's all." Jack was pleased to see a genuine smile flit across Mac's face. He slowed and pulled into a long line of cars waiting to pull into the parking lot.

"That's a lot of people for a small town's carnival." Mac mused. Jack frowned looking over at the younger man. Mac's body hummed with tension, and his eyes had narrowed with suspicion. Jack looked for a threat, but all he saw was the lights of a slowly circling Ferris wheel and corona of bright lights glowing in the coming twilight. He was about to ask Mac about his unease when Bozer offered an explanation.

"Probably all those folks from the film festival."

"They did give out free tickets, "Jack offered. Mac studied him a long second then nodded but didn't lose any of the tension. They pulled forward.

"Look! They have a zipper!" Riley pointed at a tall, thin ride that was the same color as the golden gate bridge in San Francisco. Jack raised his eyes and nodded. Pairs of riders entered small cages which were lifted straight up until passengers sat in every one. The arm began to circle fast as the name implies. As the speed increased, the cages themselves spun freely. Jack swallowed, his stomach rolling at the different directions riders traveled at once. He knew it was Riley's favorite has to be the one to take her on it at least a dozen times a year. It always ended up with him in the bathroom losing funnel cakes and whatever other treats they had passed on the way over to the ride. He turned to see Mac looking at him in amusement. The blonde didn't say anything.

They approached the gate. A clown dressed in a loose white and yellow diamond patterned one piece with large green buttons, and a matching ruff around his neck leaned forward. He had round green eyes and the obligatory red nose and lips. His hair was a green afro. He tilted looking directly at Mac as if he smelled the younger man's discomfort. And Mac was uncomfortable. He swallowed and looked away, his hands grabbing the bottom cushion of the seat with whitened knuckles. He turned to study the rock out his window as if it were the Mona Lisa. Jack raised an eyebrow. He turned back to the clown and handed him the tickets. The man nodded and waved a hand toward the parking lot. Along glittery gait slowly raised. Riley and Bozer began to gush and point at rides and games they could see through a tall metal gate. Mac looked like he was going to be sick

"You ok?" Jack asked with genuine concern. He'd seen Mac less upset facing torture. Mac glared at him.

"Of course." Mac snapped. Jack frowned at the heat in his friend's voice. Mac got out of the car first, slammed the door and stalked toward the entryway. A family with three children ducked away from him, the parents pulling their children close as if to protect them. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"He seriously doesn't like carnivals," Jack said softly.

"Is he going to be ok?" Riley's voice held a note of guilt. Bozer waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry; he'll lighten up when we get inside. Especially when we get to the games." Bozer turned to Riley, "He'll be able to win you whatever you want, trust me." Riley grinned and clapped her hands together. Jack shook his head suddenly feeling like the father of three. Mac's back was stiff, his hands wrapped around his chest, he was kicking a small stone back and forth along the side of the entry way as he waited for them. His eyes didn't leave the ground. Jack winced immediately knowing why. The entry way was a billboard-sized wooden outline of a clown. The gate opened where the clown's mouth was. Jack felt himself shiver. He had to give Mac this one, that clown was creepy as hell.

Mac didn't look up as they neared merely lead them into the carnival. Immediately inside the gate was an open rectangle open area. Booths lined the right and left; they had all the standard carnival games, darts to break balloons, ring toss, spitting clown. Even a fake target range. Jack smiled, betting he could ace that with relative ease. Jack looked at Riley's whose eyes were as wide as saucers a grin across her face. Jack felt nostalgia remembering corralling a young Riley to keep her from running away as she wanted to see everything all at once. Bozer smiled and took a deep breath. Jack's forehead wrinkled. Evidently the smell of cotton candy, sweet foods and frying grease mixed with the excited squeals of young and old and the grinding whoosh of the rides made for a familiar and pleasant atmosphere the younger man wanted to absorb.

Mac, however, looked neither right nor left, his arms close to his body, he walked with a long stride. Even with the blond's back to him, Jack could almost hear the younger man growl. Jack nudged Riley. He tilted his head at Mac. Riley grinned. She skipped ahead to Mac's side.

"Hey, Mac?" She asked. Mac looked down at her, his face lightening. "Boze said you're kind of good at these games." Mac shrugged.

"He's too modest," Bozer called, "he can whip any of these games." Mac sighed stopping and turning.

"It's only basic physics." He said softly. Despite his scowl, Jack could feel Mac's enthusiasm ignite. Riley looked at the booths, and her eyes settled on a giant purple dragon hanging on the awning of the booth with a wall of balloons along it's back. She wrapped her arms around Mac's.

"Could you win that?" She said pointing to the dragon. Mac turned with a raised eyebrow. He smirked at Jack.

"I'm not sure it'd fit in our rental." Jack rolled his eyes.

"I bet you $20 that you can't do it?" Bozer said. Mac's eyes sparkled. The only thing he liked more than winning was winning money. Jack grinned.

"I'll go in on that." Mac grinned and shrugged.

"Alright if you insist." His gaze silently told Jack he was in for some payback. He led the way over to the booth. The caller was a small man with a mail boy's hat and red satin puffy shirt. He held an unlit cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. He sighed as the quartet moved up to the counter. Mac studied the balloons a long minute then turned to the man.

"How many to win the dragon?" The man huffed and spat out bits of the cigar.

"3 for a dollar." He pointed to a small hand-sized row of dragons. Mac smiled patiently.

"No, for that one." He pointed overhead at the huge purple dragon. The man laughed almost to the point of choking.

"You have to win ten rounds of three without missing once." Mac considered then shrugged reaching for his wallet.

"Give me ten rounds." He said laying the money on the counter. The man shook his head.

"Glad to take your money, friend." Jack thought he should support his partner.

"Wanna put some money on it?" The man looked at him a glint in his eyes. Mac shot Jack an amused glance.

"Thought you were betting against me?"

"This way if you get it I get green either way. So?" The man nodded and reached into a dirty apron at his waist.

"A C-note?" He said. Jack glanced at Mac who shrugged. Jack grinned.

"You're on." Jack pulled out a $100 and put it on the counter. Mac sighed and lined up the darts. There was an increase in murmur behind him. Jack glanced around and laughed as a large crowd of spectators gathered around him. Jack was amused to see flashes of money change hands. Mac didn't notice.

Mac's focus narrowed as he made several complicated calculations in his mind. He lifted the dart adding in the variables of weight and trajectory. He snapped one up, a balloon popped. Mac launched the others in rapid succession. In less than ten seconds, thirty popped balloons hung from the board. Mac jumped at the roar around him. He'd been so intent on his task he hadn't noticed the large number around him. His face reddened, and Mac absently nodded turning to smirk at Jack. He frowned. Jack wasn't beside him. The money he and the caller had left on the counter was gone. Mac turned. Bozer was staring at him his mouth dropped. Mac shrugged. Bozer knew how well Mac did at this game, why should he be surprised? Riley was squealing as she accepted the enormous purple dragon from the caller. Mac was only half aware.

He shoved his way through the crowd, his eyes systematically dissecting the milling mass. He couldn't see Jack anywhere. His stomach dropped. He darted to a more open place in the midway and spun. His heart pounded, his breathing increased, and his hands balled into fists so tight his nails chewed into flesh.

"What?" Riley asked immediately picking up his alert.

"Where's Jack?" Bozer asked. Mac didn't waste time answering. He took off at a run. Mac scoured the entire fair, every alley, every ride, every booth, even the bathrooms. He was sucking in air, his shoulders dropped. He turned to the others who had been struggling with his frantic pace.

"Jack's gone."


	2. Chapter 2

Riley and Bozer shared a worried look. They were grouped together in the center of the midway. It was now full dark, and it had started to sprinkle lightly. Mac stood staring into space; they could feel worried and anger radiated from him. He blinked then focused on the pair. He leaned forward.

"Ok, you two need to go back to the car." Before they could protest his gaze shifted and he appeared to be watching something all around them. Riley turned to follow his gaze, and her grip tightened on the purple dragon. More clowns seemed to be milling among the people, moving slowly and silently with the unmistakable air of guards.

"I don't think…" Riley shivered.

"Maybe we should call the cops?" Bozer suggested. He'd seen the clowns, but they didn't raise alarms for him. Mac's sharp eyes pinned him like a hawk.

"Jack was targeted, we are targeted. We have to find out why." Mac said softly leaning in. "I need you two to go back to the car. Riley, hack into whatever computers they have here and back at the hotel."

"Hotel?" Riley raised her eyebrows. Mac nodded, his eyes never stopping.

"They know who Jack is. Look for facial recognition software. Bozer, call Mattie tell her what's going on. Have her check Jack's file to see if anyone accessed it."  
"What are you going to be doing?" Riley almost flinched as Mac's blue eyes met hers. She'd always known Jack was a dangerous man, but it had never occurred to her even to think about the fury and revenge he was capable of doing, She shivered. Mac smiled a cold and grim expression.

"I'm going to look around. Jack either is here or somewhere close. He would have put up a fight if someone had tried to drag him away, so he's either drugged or…" Mac ran a hand through his hair.

"Or what, Mac?" Bozer's voice showed he didn't want an answer.

"Or they threatened the crowd or us," Riley said looking at Mac. Mac nodded and frowned looking up.

"They won't be open much longer; the rain is getting worse. "I'll be out in 30 minutes."

"And if you aren't?" Now Riley looked like she didn't want an answer. Mac smiled, this time more of the familiar quirk at the edges of his mouth. He gently squeezed her shoulder.

"I will be." Before they could say anything else, Mac entered and vanished into the thickest of the group of visitors huddled under the awnings arguing if they should stay or leave. Bozer huffed and raised his hands, then slapped his legs glaring after the man. He turned to Riley who shook her head.

"C'mon. Mac knows what he's doing." _I hope._

Mac made his way through the crowd forcing himself to not shy away from the clowns who were coming out with the same growing strength as the rain which was now falling in fat cold drops. Mac ducked into the men's room. It was smooth gray stone with silver fixtures. Mac could barely hear the soft tinkling music from the nearby rides. He brushed past a father and two boys who were splashing each other in a large round sink. Mac paused his heart thumping faster as he saw a fat clown standing in front of the back door. Mac ducked into one of the two stalls and frowned thinking. He needed a diversion.

If they knew who Jack was, then they probably had some idea who the others were. Mac paused unless they were looking for something specific-like the fact he was Delta. Mac shivered. Who would want to take a delta? How did they take him? Worry fogged his brain. Mac shook it away angry at himself. He looked around the stall and smiled. He lifted the toilet lid wrinkling his nose. _I've put my hands in worse._ The idea was oddly not comforting. He took out the small blue cake of cleaner attached to the side of the bowl. There was a spare roll of paper on the back of the toilet. He unwrapped it and wrapped the toilet cleaner in the roll's wrapper then jammed it into the center. He pushed the whole thing behind the plumbing pulling out a length of the paper. He crouched and silently eased himself into the next stall. He balanced his feet on the toilet then lit the toilet paper.

It snaked along the stone floor. Mac pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth and waited. There was a poof then bang; instantly the air was filled with a chemical black. There was shouting from the front of the door; then Mac heard the gagging of the clown and his heavy footsteps as he lurched past Mac. Mac breathed shallowly and peeked his head out. The clown was at the single large sink wetting a paper towel. Mac silently jumped down and out the back door.

The door opened into a garbage-strewn one lane dirt road lined by propane tanks, thick wires and Mac could hear the distant hum of generators. He turned and ran in that direction being careful not to trip over the spider web of electrical. He ducked into a small dark area between booths and caught his breath, listening carefully. There was no sound of pursuit. Massive stadium lighting came on from several places along the tall fence that lined the carnival. Mac smiled. It made the whole dirt road dark with shadow. _Ideal for hiding._ He crept out then walked with shoulders back and a long gait. If anyone saw a glimpse of him, he hoped his confident walk would reassure them he belonged there.

"Thank you for coming to Mr. Punch's Funland. That's all for this evening, hope to see you again soon." Mac winced as he walked by a funnel-shaped speaker. Glancing out, he saw the clowns herding the customers to the gate. One stopped in front of him. Mac could see a familiar tattoo of the marine corps on the man's muscular upper arm. A private army of clowns? Mac had heard of the brutal gang the Mara Salvatrucha that had started in LA in the '80s and while a much leaner organization still had operations in all of North, Central and South America. Mac closed his eyes forcing himself to breathe; the idea was one of his worst nightmares made flesh. Mac straightened his shoulders, one of but not the worst. The worst was a dead Jack. To stop that, Mac would take out a hundred clowns if needed. Mac gulped as he saw a large striding band of clowns stalk through the food court to the back corner of the amusement park, toward the red big top tent. Mac frowned. He didn't remember seeing any adverts for what was in the big top if anything was. Keeping small he crept past the fun house. Mac felt bile crawl painfully up his throat. If there was one thing, he hated more than clowns and heights it was fun houses. He crept near it as if it were crouching ready to attack.

He passed the zipper then stopped at the corner of a huge squat gray stone building. Like the bathroom, this looked like it had been carved out of the stone around it making it an almost impenetrable fortress. There were open vents, and Mac could see lights with shadows move back and forth across them, but Mac couldn't see anything clearly or hear more than a soft hum that could have been a conversation. He crept along the side of the building and peeked around it. In the football stadium lighting, he could see a long row of cheerful clowns painted on a wooden front and sloppy letters identifying the building as the office. Mac ducked back panting. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the terror stamping through his body as the large group of clowns-army? Funneled into the office. They muttered to themselves, but walked alert, tense-like soldiers in a war zone, Mac realized.

After the last on was in, the bright lights flipped off, leaving only a few dim lights scattered along the buildings. Mac blinked away the red shadows the sudden darkness left. He crept around to the front of the building. The front door was left slightly ajar. Mac shook rain out of his eyes and leaned close listening, cursing himself for the dimness hundreds of explosions had left in his hearing.

"...tommorow...masquerade, regulars coming?...more money…" Several voices spoke over each other. Mac heard the quiet tap of footsteps and flattened himself against the rough wood. The door shut and Mac couldn't hear anymore. He frowned and continued creeping.

The Ferris wheel's lights had flashed off the same time as the others. The empty frame hung above Mac like a giant skeleton. Mac shivered. _It's only the rain._ He reached the side of the giant tent. He crept up to the yellow and red striped canvas that formed the walls of the tent. Mac stepped over 2x4's scattered on the ground. Emergency replacements for the frame if needed, he guessed. Mac pulled out his Swiss army knife and cut a four-foot slit and ducked into the big top. He blinked pushing his bangs out of his face. He wiped his face and breathed deeply glad to be out of the rain, which was now coming down in sheets. The big top was completely black, no light came in or went. Mac gritted his teeth. Jack could be three feet in front of him, and he wouldn't know. He listened but didn't hear anything.

Mac ducked out. He crept along the circular exterior of the tent and stopped when he reached the back. It took a second for his eyes to adjust. There was a slight dip then a double row of trailers, vans, trucks and RV's. Mac guessed that a hundred people milled around the impromptu village. These must be the fair's workers. Beyond them, animal pens lined the back fence. Mac's eyes narrowed. This half of the fencing had barbed wire along the top, and he could see signs warning of electric in the wall. Were these workers prisoners?

Mac glanced at his watch. His 30 minutes were almost up, but the idea of leaving Jack behind made him want to puke. A growling to his side made up his mind for him. Turning only his head, he saw three Rottweiler's, a shepherd, and a Doberman Pincher walking around the buildings. One of the smaller Doberman's had his ears forward and growled around a tight grin of pointed teeth and hanging froth. Every instinct told Mac to run, and run like hell, but he knew that not only would draw the other dogs but would trigger their trained aggression. He kept his hands to his side and slowly inched his way back to the canvas of the big top. The dog followed its hackles high. Mac tripped over one of the ropes holding the roof up. He hit with a curse and whoosh. The dog lunged forward. Mac's hand found one of the 2x4's. He knew physical blows the dog would only piss the dog off, and he wanted to keep the sound of the confrontation as quiet as possible. The other dogs appeared to be watching warily.

He lifted the 2x4 and jammed it into the Doberman's mouth. The dog gagged silently but couldn't get his mouth off of the wood. Mac pulled out the stick as he rose to his feet. The dog continued to growl but backed up. Mac kept his eyes down. The dog's ears perked up, and he turned and ran after the other dogs which had found something more interesting along the midway. Mac let out a huff of air; his heart pounded so hard his entire body shook. He turned and loped silently back the way he came. Mac reached the back of the office and frowned. The fence here did not have barbed wire, and he hoped that meant no charge. Mac sniffed. There wasn't any of the distinctive smell of rain hitting electric wires. The building was about ten feet tall, and the roof was mostly flat. At it's closest the fence was five feet away. Mac shook his head and blinked rain out of his eyes. With the dogs between him and the gate, Mac had to make another way out. He crept to one side without windows and planted his 2x4 as deep in the soggy ground as he could then angled it toward the stone. Taking a deep breath, Mac put a foot on the top of it, rocked back and forth counting to three then pushing off it launched himself toward the roof. He managed to grab onto a steel gutter. Mac moaned as the metal cut grooves along his palms. He could feel warm blood running down his arm mixing with the chilling rain. Mac's arms shook as he pulled himself up. He rolled onto the roof and took a deep breath. He stood up. He was able to see most of the carnival. Other than the dog shadows and the distant life around the trucks nothing moved. Mac backed up until the roof just started to incline. He braced himself ran full tilt and launched himself into the air stretching as far as he could.

Mac gasped as the pointed talons at the top of the fence raked his chest ripping shirt and drawing blood. He then landed in a painful sprawl trying to suck in air. After a few minutes, he was able to breathe in the thick pine scent of the forest line about 20 feet away. He forced himself up to his knees. Still, nothing moved. He traded stealth for speed and ran full tilt to the parking lot. He drew the attention of the dogs that ran along side him inside the gate, all barking madly. He heard voices and a bright light turn on behind him. He ignored it all and pumped everything he had into his legs. He reached the Prius, jumped into the passenger's seat and looked back.

"Go!" He yelled. Bozer didn't say a word but took off as fast as the car would go. Mac kept watching them until they had turned onto the tarred road and was out of sight from the carnival. He sank back, closed his eyes and sucked in air. His pains flared into awareness as his heart calmed and adrenaline wore off. He put his forearm against his side. He looked down and frowned. His old graze oozed blood. _Fantastic._ His chest burned like some monsters claws had raked it, his hands stung. He felt dizzy, nauseous and began to shake with the cold.

"...Mac?" Bozer's alarmed voice broke through his haze. He looked up to see Riley leaning forward from the back seat a warm hand on his shivering arm. Mac's eyebrow raised and he smiled weakly at the purple dragon taking up most of the back seat. Mac glanced at Bozer who was splitting his time panic looking at Mac and driving.

"I'm all right, Boze. I couldn't find Jack." The chattering of his teeth garbled his reassuring tone. Bozer reached over and turned the heat on full blast. Mac held out his hands and sighed in contentment. He closed his eyes and leaned back, suddenly exhausted. Mac dimly heard the others speaking. He decided he just needed to rest his eyes a minute.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack gagged. _What the hell is that smell? Ugh._ He then became aware of a deep vibrating and breathing.

"Mac?" His voice was garbled, and he felt way hung over. He opened his eyes and blinked. Everything was blurry. He didn't remember going to get drunk. "Mac?" Jack rolled onto his back. _That smell! Did I poop my pants?_ Jack slowly sat up blinking. _Nope, all good._ He absently dusted dirt and hay off his black t-shirt and moved his tongue around his mouth. It was dry and felt like a small furry animal had curled up and died on his tongue. He rubbed at his eyes. "Mac?" He asked louder, the absence of reply jolting him out of his stupor. He wrinkled his nose and followed the smell, his eyes widened, and he scrambled backward until he backed up against something unmovable. He stared down at a black panther who slowly opened his yellow eyes, shut them then huffed out air. The sleek cat rolled over and spread it's back along the cage separating it from Jack. Jack shook his head. _What the fuck?_

As he took in his surroundings, he found that he was in a cage that was about a six-foot square, silver bars were inset into cold gray stone. He stood up, having to hunch a little to keep from braining himself on the top of the cage. He realized what the stink reminded him of, a dirty litter box. Looking for the black cat that stretched his height from head to tail, a huge, dirty litter box. Jack's heart thumped as he looked in all directions. In the cage to his left, a man wrapped almost head to toe in bandages lay on the dirty floor. His face had bruising and blood almost to the point of being misshapen. Jack crouched down closer to the guy.

"Hey, buddy? Hey!" The man gave a low murmur but no other reaction.

"He's almost done." A hoarse voice said. Jack looked through on the other side of the beaten man another man laid listlessly against the bars. His face had recent cuts on it that looked like they were healing poorly. He held his arm across his wrapped abdomen. Jack looked at his jarhead cut.

"Marine?" Jack guessed.

"Ooorah." The man said with a weak smile. "You?"

"Delta" The man shifted wincing in pain. Jack could see two other men in cages past the marine. Jack looked out the front of the cage. There were six cages, four filled with two scrawny tigers, one female lion and one lion with a matted, dirty mane. The other cages were empty. Jack grimaced at the obvious smears of dried blood stains, his heart thudding. "Who did they have over there? Did they bring anyone in with me?" The marine weakly shook his head.

"A marine and a ranger had been over there; they dragged them away last night. I think they feed them to the do

"What the fuck is going on?" Jack asked looking over at the Marine.

"The clown posse out there has themselves a little fight club." Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Come again?"

"Cage matches, brother. They force us to cage fight until we die." The marine's eyes were slowly sinking.

"We fight each other?" Jack scowled not liking the idea of fighting those he considered brothers in arms. The Marine chuckled.

"No, man. I wish we did...at least then there'd be...a chance." The Marine slumped, his eyes closed. The other big cats were asleep. Jack sat down, his back against the rear of the cage. The panther stretched and let out a quiet sigh. Jack could see all of his ribs. _Great, just fucking great._ He rubbed his neck which was sore. Jack's eyes widened when he felt a solid, hot golf ball against his fingers. He remembered watching Mac clean house with darts and going to pick up the pair of C-notes. Jack closed his eyes forcing his body to relax. So he was drugged and taken where? He guessed he was still on the carnival grounds. He didn't remember seeing a big top tent, but they had only gone to that one booth. Jack rubbed his aching temples.

They were ID'd before they ever passed through the gate. _Someday I'll learn my lesson and just go with Mac's instincts._ Jack put his arms on upraised knees and leaned his head back. _At least the others are safe._ Jack scowled. _Well, not here at least._ It sounded like they were collecting special forces. _Better entertainment._ Jack shook his head and ran his hands through his short hair. From what he could see of the others, he was the oldest here. Jack wondered if that meant they only knew he was Delta. The military file that came up when searched for requires a high clearance level, but that was only a front for his real file. Only select few at Phoenix and the Farm could access it. Since they hadn't taken Mac too, Jack hoped that meant they could only read his cover file. That would mean Phoenix was safe. Jack let out a breath and curled up on the floor. He rubbed his arms. The stone underneath him was chilling. Jack closed his eyes. Like any experienced soldier, he knew how to sleep anywhere, anytime and very lightly.

The tapping of a foot on stone woke Jack up. He rolled gracefully into a crouch entirely awake. His internal clock told him he'd been asleep about half a day. Jack shrugged a kink out of his shoulders. The tapping belonged to a pair of glitter and black saddle shoes. Jack's eyebrows threatened to creep up and over his head as he looked at the sparkling shoes to silver pants, a glittering coat, black shirt and shining tie. The man had dark skin and a tall top hat, silver with a black band around it rested on his head. The man leaned on a cane that looked like a rubber chicken.

"I know, quite dazzling to see the first time, isn't it." The man's voice was soft, velvety. He had a body like a wrestler, stocky with wide shoulders and narrow waist. He bowed and removed his hat. Jack stood up and casually walked to the front of the cage. The man was just out of reach. He grinned a dazzling white crooked smile. "I am Mr. Punch." The man said. Jack laughed. _So he was._ The image of knocking this joker into next year quickened Jack's heart beat with appreciation. It was a minute before he winced realizing the pun he'd made. _Good think Mac's not here, that one was bad even for me._

"Well, Mr. Punch. What can I do for you?" Jack twanged leaning against the cage eyeing the man. Mr. Punch blinked and appeared discomforted by Jack's response. _Short fucker gets off on fear._ Jack smiled broadly and theatrically yawned. This tin- foiled asshole thought he was going to make Jack Dalton afraid? _Nope, not gonna happen._ After a long minute, Mr. Punch smiled and replaced his hat tipping it back with his stupid cane. _What is with this guy and clowns?_

"You are going to fight for me, Mr. Dalton." The man paused. Jack gave no reaction to hearing his name.

"I'll fight, Mr. Punch-face…"

"It's Mr. Punch." The man snarled, all trappings of amusement were gone. Jack shrugged.

"Whatever. I'll fight, but it won't be for you. It'll be because you leave me no choice or when I fight my way outta here." The glittering man thumped his rubber chicken against the bars. It made a solid metal thwack. Jack's muscles almost twitched with the instinct to jump forward and grab it. He forced himself to stay leaning against the bars unmoved. _Good call._ The man growled. A sharp needle point had popped out of the chicken's bent mouth. Jack wondered if that was how they'd injected him in the first place. Mr. Punch trembled with rage. Jack smirked. _I am so James Bond right now!_ Mr. Punch huffed.

"Attitude, good I like that. You'll get a lot of money in the ring." The man took a step away then turned back with another huge grin. "And Mr. Dalton, you will fight for me, or your friends will." Jack's face didn't change expression, but his dark eyes gleamed like an obsidian knife.

"You know, Mr. Punch-face, when I get out of here, and I will, you are very much going to wish you'd never said that." Jack's voice was almost conversational, but the threat was audible. Mr. Punch nodded pleased to get a reaction from Jack. Jack's upper lip twisted and he took a calming breath. _Save it for later._ Jack heard it in Mac's voice. He smiled warmed by the thought. He just had to hold on until his partner broke him out. Jack had no doubt the others were looking for him. Jack smiled thinking of all the mayhem that would come when they found him. _Soon, Mr. Punch-face, it's coming ol' son, it's coming for sure._

"Ooohrah!" The marine coughed. Jack shot him a grin. "My name is Sam, Sam Walker." Jack nodded and sat down on the side closest to the man. The kid wasn't much older than Mac. He had deep aquamarine eyes filled with betrayal and pain.

"I'm Jack Dalton, where'd you serve marine?" The younger man looked down; Jack could swear he saw the guys lower lip tremble.

"No...nowhere. I'd just finished boot camp. I'm supposed to ship out in a month for Kabul. I came out here to visit my girl in Denver...we got free tickets...she loves carnivals." The man's voice drifted off to a tear-stained whisper.

"They set you up, Sam. It's not your fault or your girl's. What's her name?" Jack gentled his voice. Sam looked up and smiled.

"Angelica." Jack could almost hear the heavenly choir of young love in the boy's tired voice.

"She sounds lovely." To Jack's surprise, Sam laughed.

"No, sir, can't say she is. She's round as a blueberry and kinda looks like a horse." Jack grinned.

"Some of my best friends are horses." Sam put his hand against his abdomen but didn't stop laughing.

"Mine too. She has a heart big enough for the entire world." Jack looked over at the kid with soft affection, damn if he didn't remind Jack of himself at that age. "To me that makes her the most beautiful woman in the universe." Jack nodded. Sam sat back letting out a tired sigh. Without looking at Jack, he asked in a voice much younger than his years, "Did you mean what you said about getting out of here?" Jack looked over at him and waited until the kids light blue eyes met his. Jack's smile was not a pleasant one. 

"Oh yeah we're getting out of here, and we're not leaving a single stone standing."

Someone had taken Jack's watch (and his pistol, of course) so he had no way to track time. The big cats had small doors in the back of their cages. When they opened, and the malnourished animals got up and went outside, Jack could see by the glare that it was probably morning. A tall, thin old man came in pushing a bucket carrying tools. Jack tried to talk to him or meet the man's eyes, but the man kept his gaze down and ear buds in his ears. He cleaned the stalls including the ones with the bloodstains then left. Jack took in a deep breath. Instead of kitty litter, it now smelled more of bleach. Jack winced, and human waste. Still, he'd been a prisoner in worse places.

A sturdy woman with a disarrayed mane of blond hair barely controlled into a pony tail came in carrying a tray. The angles of her body seemed rough-hewn, like the stone around them, even her eyes were the same dimmed wolf-gray. She bent down and opened a small opening at the bottom of the door. Jack frowned. He hadn't noticed that before. She shoved a plate of dry meat and limp greens under Sam's door. She turned to leave.

"Where's mine, darlin'?" Jack shouted. He didn't expect any, but he was bored. She turned her mouth angling into a sour grimace.

"You win, you eat. And my name isn't 'darling' it's Suzanna." The woman's voice was deep, husky like a boy in the piano wire stages of puberty.

"Not gonna get anywhere with that one." Sam offered, shoving a huge bite of meat into his mouth.

"Oh?"

"She's the lion tamer." Jack smiled and curled up at the end of the cage closing his eyes. _Is she now?_ He let out a breath and slid into a peaceful doze. The slap of the animal cage doors opening woke Jack up. Glancing out, he could see the reflection of a cotton-candy sunset. The cats came in. The black panther, who Jack decided to call George stood studying him a long minute, licking his lips.

"Well, hey there, bud. Have a good day?" Jack asked. George let out a low short growl then walked in a circle and plopped onto the stone with an aggravated huff. Jack moved closer and knelt closer to the big cat but far enough not to get a faceful of a claw. George paused his giant watermelon-colored tongue licking his back leg. He looked over at Jack more annoyed than afraid. Jack grinned feeling like a kid. He'd never been this close to a big cat! Jack sighed wishing Mac was with him, even while being desperately happy he wasn't.

The door gave a loud thud, and two lanky clowns in a brilliant parody of biker gang members entered. They held canted AR-15s. One stood back aiming directly at Jack. The other brought out a comically large ring full of myriads of keys in different sizes and colors. Jack shook his head. It looked like a show prop more than a useful set, but the key to open his cell was on it-a lime green. Jack smiled over at George who'd ducked back into the corner of his cage hissing, his ears back. Jack could feel the stomach grumbling growl through the stone. Jack put up his hands and left the cage. He looked at the two clowns and frowned. Whatever they may look like, they knew their stuff.

"Later, George," Jack said over his shoulder. The clown following him shoved him. Jack stumbled but didn't lose his footing. He focused on studying his surroundings.

The tent was probably a hundred feet across. Bleachers circled out from a center ring that had thick walls, half jersey barrier half prison fence. People wearing elegant clothes and elaborate masks filled every space along the bleachers was covered by people wearing masks and fancy clothes. Jack raised his eyebrow. There were women in full gowns holding up Harlequin ball masks, men in full tux and tails wearing plastic superhero masks, and a plethora of others. They all milled drank out of champagne glasses and a haze of cigarette and pot smoke swirled above them. Rigging for a trapeze dangled from the metal frame holding up the red canvas roof. Lights on tall ornate street poles scattered around the edge of the tent seemed to make everything more shadowy lending the tent a closed in feeling of fear and excitement. His guards nudged him forward.

As soon as he appeared, the crowd's murmur swelled, and Jack could feel hundreds of eyes study him. He swallowed, his throat tight, his mouth dry. Jack stretched his neck and pumped his fists taking in even slow breaths. Glancing up, he could see lady clowns in scanty maid outfits roaming through the spectators. Some carried trays of drinks or smokes, the others took the money and noted bets on paper. Jack forced himself to ignore the bustle taking in the center ring instead. The floor looked like loose sand. _Bad footing, excellent weapon._ Other than that there wasn't anything in the circle. A grated door opened in front of him and they shoved in Jack. He twitched at the cold snap of the lock's bolt. He swung his arms and jumped on his toes getting his circulation going. He looked up. A net of barbed wire spanned across the top of the cage. A spotlight lit up a raised platform over the door opposite the one Jack had come in. Mr. Punch stood gleaming on it. Jack winced at the reflected brightness.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," His voice rolled loudly from speakers around the outside of the benches giving it an odd tinny echo. "Welcome to this fourth day of the fortnight of this year's Masquerade. We have quite a treat for you tonight! Your champion-Gacy from Chi-town!" The gate across from Jack opened, and a giant strode into the center of the circle. He raised his gloved hands and turned in a circle. He looked like a rodeo clown. As a native Texan, even the idea of raising a hand against one physically hurt. The man, Gacy Jack assumed, strutted around the ring and pointed at Jack moving his feet in a quick boxing combo. Jack raised an eyebrow. He wasn't impressed. The man was fast, but obviously not a professional. _Champion my ass! They just start off with easy fights to get the bets up._ The crowd ate it up.

"...and his challenger hailing from the great state of Texas-Jacky Boy." Jack frowned. _Yep, Texan and proud of it! But Jacky-boy? Seriously?_ There was a loud buzzer, and Gacy stormed toward him. Jack slowly backed away in a circle his eyes darting around him in case they decided to throw in more surprises. Seeing none, he kept his eyes on those of his opponent. Gacy lashed out, Jack easily ducked. _This guy telegraphs more than Western-union._ Jack let the man tire himself out a bit as he crept around the edge of the circular ring, probing for a way out. Too distracted he missed and got walloped across the head. Jack was thrown back his ear burning. He moved his chin glad it wasn't broken. The crowd's roar grew in loudness and blood thirst. Jack stood up and spit out blood. He sighed. _Enough is enough._ He backed up and crouched. Gacy rushed him. Jack ducked the man's swing and before he could recover Jack jumped and swung a punch with his middle knuckle out at the back of the man's right ear. He heard the crunch of bone. Gacy hit the ground dead before Jack lightly landed on his feet.

Jack wiped at his mouth backing away. The entire tent was silent. Jack glanced up at Mr. Punch-face and smiled. Jack didn't think he'd ever seen a brown face turn that purple before. The two clown guards came in and pointed their AR-15s at him. Jack raised his hands and made no movement toward them. He could see how rattled they were. After a tense minute, the crowd began to murmur then stroke itself into a full buzz. Mr. Punch's face broke into a grin.

"And the winner is Jacky-boy!" The lanky stall cleaner wheeled a cart across the circle and loaded Gacy's corpse onto it with difficulty. If they didn't have two very large automatics pointed his way, Jack would have helped. _I'm a gentleman after all, right?_

"All right, my friends, place bets for the next round-Jacky-boy and last year's winners-Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum!" Jack let out a loud belly laugh. _What? These people are seriously fucked up._ His humor died when two men entered the ring. Jack blocked out the ring master's rolling dialogue and studied his opponents.

They both wore makeup, but instead of clowns, they were stylized as skulls. They both wore wrestlers leotards one of Kelly green and the other apple red. They both swung long narrow El Salvador machetes in their hands. Their movements were perfectly in sync but showy. When he'd done a long job down in Columbia Jack had spent some time learning grima, the machete martial art, but was by no means proficient. As he watched the Christmas twins, he smiled. The way they were gripping the blades was more like how a fighter might brandish a short broadsword.

Of the two, the one in Green, who Jack arbitrarily called Tweedle-dee moved with more fluid grace. Tweedle-dum was almost half a step behind him and seemed nervous being in front of the crowd. Jack smiled. _I can work with that._ The buzzer went off. Jack ran full tilt at Dum launching himself at last second. His feet hit Dum's chest and knocked him over with a whoosh. Jack scooped up the man's fallen machete as he continued his momentum into a tight roll coming up to his feet in the same movement.

Jack raised his machete in time for it to clang against a down swipe from Dee. Jack rolled in and hit the man with his elbow dancing out of reach before Dum could swing down again. Jack crouched ready his left hand held behind his back. It forced him into a more stable stance and gave his opponent one less limb to slash. Dum lashed out horizontally. Jack didn't even bother moving aside; the man was too far away to land a strike. Jack waited until the man came closer before counterattacking. Jack smiled seeing Dum make a mistake before his body was even moving.

The biggest weakness of the machete versus a broadsword was it had no stabbing ability. Dum forgot that and stabbed straight ahead. Jack easily stepped to the left of the strike and countered with one of his own, down and diagonal across the man's thigh. Blood shot out in a thick arc as the man screamed and fell on his side on the sand. Dee stood up and rushed Jack, not stopping to pick up a machete. Jack sidestepped and slashed out horizontally. Dee's head almost flopped off as the body folded to the ground. Jack spit blood out of his mouth not sure if it was from him or the Christmas twins. He snatched up the machetes and turned only to find himself on the wrong end of two AR-15's.

"Dammit." He muttered dropping the weapons and raising his hands. He smirked up at Mr. Punch-face who was strangling the arms of an ornate red and gold chair. The crowd was wild banging on the fence enough to rattle, but not move it. Jack sighed leading the way back to his cage wincing at the stickiness of blood. It didn't occur to him that he might have bigger worries until George perked his ears up and leaned forward tonguing the air. He licked his chops and began to purr like a kitten finding catnip. _Lovely._


	4. Chapter 4

Mac sat silently watching the buildings outside the window blur in the streaming tears of the rain. Owensville was small, barely large enough to be considered a town. It had the usual stores and fast food along one main road. At the end of the main road across from each other was a huge 24-hour shopping store called Voldemart beside that was the single hotel. Mac considered the hotel. It could probably house every person in the entire town. Someone had put a lot of money into it. In the dark, the rows of glittering lights looked like reflections off of hundreds of predatorial eyes. Mac tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He cleared his throat.

"Boze, go over to the store," Boze asked a question with his glance. He and Riley had been exchanging worried glances. Mac had withdrawn into himself the entire drive. When they had tried to tell him what they had found, he held up a hand to stop them. The silent ride back had been unnerving. Riley had never thought about it, but she realized that Mac was usually quiet on a mission. Jack filled the air with jokes and running commentary on whatever was running through his head. He also brought Mac out of the deep corners of his ginormous brain, as Jack called it. He was the perfect counterbalance to the quiet genius. _Mac must feel lost without Jack; they are almost half of the other.  
_

Seeing that the silent question didn't work, Bozer asked his question as he turned into the well-lit lot.

"What are we shopping for? Do you have a plan?" Mac looked over at him. The blond's face was smooth of any distress, but his voice sounded like he'd been chugging lemon juice.

"I have a plan." Mac sighed. Bozer didn't like the emptiness in his friend's eyes. He parked. Mac went to undo his seatbelt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bozer asked, his voice sharper than he intended. Mac's cold gaze silenced his friend's protest.

"Mac, you're covered in blood." Mac glanced at Riley with surprise. He looked down and scowled. _Forgot about that, damn._ Mac rubbed his face. _Get it together, Mac, Jack needs you on your A-game!_ Mac nodded.

"Ok, here's what I need…" Bozer's went wide as Mac listed out his needs.

"Are you kidding me? Are you sure?" Riley asked hesitation in her voice. Mac looked at her. She saw the terror in his eyes, but his voice was steady. His voice showed annoyance.

"Why wouldn't I? I told you I'm not scared of clowns." The others both opened their mouths to point out the obvious, but his steady hard gaze silenced them. He swallowed and continued, not quite able to hide the warble in his voice. Mac sat back and forced himself to take a deep breath. _I better get over my fear._

He looked out the window. He held his side and shifted in the seat. His side was still leaking, but his front had stopped. His flank hurt like hell. Mac studied the lot. It was late enough that only a few cars were scattered close to the entrances. Mac shook his head, those that were there were barely in the lines. _This late the only ones shopping are agoraphobics and the inebriated...and spies._ Mac didn't smile at his attempt at lightening the night. With the dampness of his clothes and dark smudging on the windows, the night had a greasy feel like black oil that clings even after multiple showers.

Mac wiped his face. _C'mon Mac reign in that ginormous brain, you're letting your imagination get to you, brother._ Mac felt tears push against his eyes. He would have given anything to hear Jack say that in person. He ran a hand through his hair. _Some spy. This place is a sticky web, I felt it but didn't warn anyone. Too busy brooding._ Mac glared at the doors as if he could will his partners to walk out them any faster. He squirmed. Now that Mac had a plan, he wanted to get to it, to get Jack home...Mac froze, his heart skipped a beat, and he sucked in a shaky breath.

Standing in front of the car, 50 paces or so away, stood one of the scariest clowns he'd ever seen. The man looked huge, but Mac had no idea if it was the body or the white costume stained with red polka dots. In the dripping rain, they were sores oozing blood. The man's face was flesh tone with white painted around his eyes and mouth. There was a tiny hat on his head surrounded by red fluff. He slowly walked closer. Mac gasped pushing back harder against his seat. The clown's mouth opened showing dripping fangs that would be at home on a rabid dog, a large, rabid dog. Mac's heart pounded, his breathing came in pants. The clown stopped and tilted his head at Mac. Mac noticed that he kept one of his hands hidden behind the man's back. The man splashed in the rain, his giant shoes tapping in a manic circular dance. When he again faced Mac, he held a massive hammer in his white gloved hands. Mac swore he could see blood dripping from its wooden head. Mac sucked in air desperately, frozen in terror. The man came forward his feet doing a stalking skip. Mac glanced over and saw Riley and Bozer coming out of the store carrying several white plastic bags. Mac's breath caught. He leaped from the car and started to run toward them. Mac pulled up short. There was nobody in front of him. Mac leaned against the car, his legs feeling like gewy noodles. He closed his eyes and forced in a soggy breath. The rain was a cold tongue tasting his fear. He began to shake and felt dizzy.

"Mac! Are you ok?" Bozer asked. Mac flinched when his friend grabbed his arm. He took in a deep breath and looked ahead of the car. His heart was thumping through his skull like a rabbit running for its life. Mac glanced over at Bozer and Riley and wiped wet hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah...I...just thought I saw something." His voice sounded strangled even to his ears. Before the others could say anything else, he turned and returned to the car wrapping his arms across his quaking chest. _Get ahold of yourself, Mac. Jack needs you too much to flake out now._ Mac kept his eyes closed focusing on taking deep breaths, avoiding contact with the other two. He could feel their concern, their pity. It was like a whirlpool sucking him into the black ground. _Suck it up. Time to get over it and get the job done. Jack's life depends on it._ Mac sighed, but couldn't stop shaking.

Bozer parked close to a back corner entrance where they knew no one would see Mac's bloody appearance. Mac closed his eyes holding his side as he focused on trudging up the four floors of stairs. Bozer went to open his mouth, Mac's glare snapped it shut. Mac was pale and bleeding from his side again as he panted waiting for Riley to open the door. Mac put a hand on her forearm and leaned forward.

"Assume there are bugs, you know what to do with the radio and earphones?" Mac stepped back. Riley smiled and nodded. Mac nodded then looked at Bozer and put his finger to his lips. Bozer frowned. Mac rolled his eyes and pointed at his ear then the ceiling. Bozer's eyes widened his mouth making an o. Bozer grinned and waved a hand that said "yeah I knew that." Mac shook his head but smiled in spite of himself. Mac pushed the others behind him as he reached out and turned on the lights. He listened intently, nodded at the others and slowly crept forward ahead of them.

Trained to spot trip wires, buried IED's and things out of place that might indicate an explosive trap, Mac's eyes raked every inch of their room. Silently he crept to the open door leading to the other room they had rented and checked that one. He nodded letting out a deep breath. If someone had gone through their room, he couldn't see any sign of it. He nodded at Riley who poured out the contents of one of the bags and began to put together a crude counter surveillance device. Mac leaned against the dresser catching his breath. In the mirror, he could see Bozer watching him, about to speak to him.

"I'm going to take a shower." Mac declared. Without looking at his friends, he grabbed a pair of sweats and Mission City Cavalier's sweatshirt. Mac nodded at the others and went into the shower. He still felt shaky, nervous. MacGyver turned on the water and let it get hot. He leaned on the sink trying to pull his thoughts into some coherant order. Glancing up into the foggy mirror, he saw the outline of the clown standing behind him. Mac whirled biting back on a scream. His heart thudded. As his rational mind expected, there was nothing there. _I'm losing it._ Mac swiped at the mirror and glared at himself. _It's only your imagination. Why are you afraid of a man with paint on his face? What the hell! You've disarmed nuclear bombs for fuck's sake. Don't be stupid; you can't afford to be stupid, put your head out of your ass and stop being a child._ Mac forced himself to stand straighter and pull off his soaked clothes. He looked at his side and winced. _It's no big deal. Hurts like a bastard, but I've hurt a lot worse._ The scratches on his chest looked like deep claw marks.

Mac hopped into the shower and sucked in a breath as the hot water hit his open wounds. He looked down at the blood swirling down the drain. He closed his eye and leaned against the wall letting the water run down his back, relaxing the muscles there. The tension didn't diminish, but the cold that had seemed to gnaw deep to the bone eased. He reviewed his plan. Unfortunately, he could poke a thousand holes in it. He sighed and washed his hair, closing his eyes against the sting of shampoo in his eyes. Normally he'd run it by Jack, who would usually say it was insane, grin then back him up 100%. Mac shook his head forcing the pang of loneliness, fear, and worry away from his thoughts. _To save Jack, I can't think of Jack. I can't fall apart. Jack is counting on me. I'll be damned if I let him down._ Mac turned off the cooling water feeling his determination override fear, at least for now. He looked down at his side and frowned as blood pooled and began to seep out. He should have had stitches, but he'd refused. _If everything had gone to plan, I'd be home in beautiful weather sitting on the deck letting it heal without any problem._ Mac slid into his sweats. _Ok, honestly I probably would be staining the deck. But that is a lot more restful than this._ Mac pushed a clean towel against his side, wincing at the flare in pain. Leaving his shirt off, he padded barefoot into the other room.

Riley looked up as Mac came into the room and her breath caught. His chest had savage claw marks as if made by a bear. Although red and puffy, Riley was relieved they had stopped bleeding. His side was another matter. The towel he held against his side was slowly turning from white to pink to dark red. Mac looked pale but wasn't shaking anymore. Riley smiled. He looked back to himself. She had been worried by the outright panic she had seen on his face at Voldemart. Riley waved him over and showed him what she'd made. He made one adjustment then grinned and nodded. Riley felt herself glow with pride. Mac had shown her how to do this as part of her training. This was the first time she'd gotten to do it in the field, and Mac's approval felt like she'd gotten her college diploma. She flipped a switch, and there was a soft sound of static.

"Ok, we can talk now." Mac breathed. He sat on the edge of the bed that wasn't cluttered. Bozer leaned him over to the side and lifted the towel. Mac scowled but let him.

"Man, you're bleeding again." Mac huffed. _Duh_ "You need to get stitches or taped up…" Mac held up a hand cutting his friend off.

"I got it taken care of, but I need your help." He stood and got a four pack of super glue off the bed and handed it to Bozer.

"Are you kidding me? I can't glue you together like some broken china!" Mac smiled wryly.

"That's good because I'm not China. C'mon Boze." Bozer glared at Mac. Mac only held out the container until Bozer shook his head. The man looked like he wanted to put his fist through something. Mac smiled and scooted onto the bed.

"You know this is going to hurt like hell, right?" Mac rolled his eyes and stretched out, his cut side facing up.

"Just get on with it," Mac growled. Bozer shook his head and knelt beside Mac's back pulling open the plastic container. Riley wasn't sure who braced themselves more for the pain to come. Mac laid his head on a pillow and looked over at Riley.

"So what did you find?" He winced as Bozer wiped the excess blood away as much as he could.

"You were right about the recognition software, the same person, a Mr. Punch, owns this hotel and the carnival." Mac gasped and closed his eyes as Bozer squeezed the first tube into the open wound. Bozer winced almost feeling his best friend's pain.

"I'm sorry, Mac." Mac took a deep breath and looked steadily at Riley. Riley saw sweat bead at his lip and hairline.

"Go on, Riley." Riley swallowed looking away from Mac's pain. _He's one tough son-of-a-bitch._

" The facial recognition software was simple, the kind any hacker could come up with, the databases they had access to were much more impressive…" She looked up as Mac let out a small cry of pain. Mac's hand was white knuckled clutching the pillowcase, his breathing was fast, and he was more than one shade paler. He sucked in a breath, and his moon blue eyes met hers steady and reliable.

"Go on." Bozer's jaw clenched, but he opened the second tube and began to run it along the still bleeding wound. The smell of acetone was almost overpowering.

"Matty said that Jack's bogus file was accessed as soon as we checked in, they didn't get to Phoenix of the CIA. I couldn't find anything about this Mr. Punch, not even a photo." Mac's eyes turned inward with thought. His breath rasped as Bozer added in another tube.

"It's almost stopped," Bozer said with a grin.

"Great." Mac's voice held sarcastic enthusiasm. He looked over to Riley. "He must have some ties to the DOD, did you check to see if any other special forces members went missing?" Riley's face turned hard, her voice sad.

"For the past fifteen years, any special forces member that steps foot in this town during the same two weeks of every year vanish without a trace. I even talked to one husband who said that his wife had brought their teenage kids here when they got free tickets to that carnival. The kids were unharmed and filed a police report. They supposedly searched the festival grounds, but…" Riley shrugged a shoulder. Mac took a deep breath. Bozer sat back with a deep breath studying his work

"I think it's all sealed up Mac. The package says it takes an hour to set and four hours to set completely. I have no idea what that translated to on a human body." Mac smiled turning his head toward his friend.

"It usually takes longer."

"You've done this before?" Bozer's eyes widened. Mac rolled his eyes but didn't answer.

"Thanks, buddy." Bozer nodded gathering up the debris and throwing it in the trash. He sat on the bed next to Riley. Mac shifted his gaze back to her, his brows knitted together. " Mr. Punch is obviously a cover name." Mac grimaced as he moved to a more comfortable position. Bozer was about to jump off the bed and probably yell at him when Mac stared him down. Bozer huffed.

"Yeah, I feel like we're in a James Bond movie," Riley said shaking her head. Mac chuckled and sucked in air.

"Nah, this is more like a punch-em-up movie, you know Segal, Swatzenegger, Van Dam, those guys," Bozer said. Mac's eyes widened, and he went to sit up, Bozer was at his side pushing him down before he could finish the move.

"What if that's what this is?" Mac didn't seem to notice Bozer's move.

"What do you mean?" Riley asked trying to follow Mac's train of thought.

"Think of it, why would someone want to kidnap soldiers with military training and experienced in combat?"

"Because he's a psycho," Bozer muttered. Mac ignored him.

"What if there's some sort of competition...underground cage fights?" Mac again went to sit up. Bozer pushed him down more forcefully anger on his face.

"Will you sit your ass down and keep it down! You aren't even set yet." Mac scowled. Bozer met his glare with one of his own. Mac huffed in defeat.

"Sometimes you're as bad as Jack." Bozer grinned.

"Thank you, that is the nicest thing you've ever said to me."


	5. Chapter 5

Jack outpaced the panther. The starving cat had pawed at the cage bars, hissed, roared and licked the air as if it could get nourishment from the smell of dried blood. Jack picked at the crust on his arm and scowled. The two biker clown, who Jack had decided to call Heckyl and Jeckyl, had taken Sam. Jack had challenged them to take him first. They had shrugged the thinner one telling him they had all levels of buyers for a fight.

Jack was pissed and started pacing. This wounded kid was dragged into a fighting cage because someone paid to beat him up more probably so they could say they kicked a Marine's ass? At first, the panther and the other large felines matched his pacing. Now they had given up and were napping on the floor of their cages. Jack stopped and wiped his face wincing at the debris on his face. Jack didn't mind killing them; they had paid money to challenge him. Jack smiled. Unfortunately, they had gotten a full Delta, not a weakened boy half starved and severely wounded.

The bundle of bandages in the cage beside him groaned. Jack crouched down and stretched his hand through the cage and rested a hand on the only area of his body not bandaged, his left shoulder. Jack felt the man jump.

"Hey, buddy. Are you hanging in there?" _Of course not, stupid question Jackass!_ "My name's Jack." Jack offered in apology. The man's mouth moved. Jack had to press his face painfully against the bars to hear him.

"Hank." Jack smiled and gently squeezed the man's shoulder. He could feel the man shaking and realized he was sobbing. Jack felt a ball form in his throat.

"Easy ol' son, keep your strength, Hank." Jack murmured turning and sitting against the bars beside the man. Hank moaned, and his hand, which had apparently broken fingers reached out. Jack didn't hesitate; he gently took the man's hand in his own. Hank squeezed with a strength that caused him pain with a force Jack would never have expected for a man in his shape. "You hang in there, brother. We're gonna survive this." The man snorted and shook his head; his hand went limp. Jack leaned forward in dismay. "Hank? Hank!" Jack winced as he stretched his fingers and reached the man's neck. He ducked his head and slammed his hand against the bars.

Jack stood up and paced again, adrenaline swept his pulse and breathing into a frenzy. He could feel the vein in the center of his forehead bulge and pulsate with pure rage and hate. George growled softly. Jack turned to glare at the Panther. The animal's eyes were almost sympathetic. Jack wondered what the big cat had to go through. _I bet they started with cockfights, Pitt fights, then the big kitties._ Jack stooped beside the bars facing the black cat. The cat ducked, his ears halfway back with doubt. He didn't back away or attack. Jack reached out the back of his fingers. George stared at him, his tail swishing angry. Jack didn't move and even smiled. _He reminds me of Mac when I first met him over in the sand box._

"George, I'm gonna get us outta here, ok?" George leaned forward and licked his hand. Jack jumped and forced himself not to jump back. George leaned close. Moving slow, Jack slowly petted behind his ears. Jack could feel the cat's body tremble with fear. Jack felt his heart break for George, for the other cats, for Hank, for Sam, for Sam's horse-faced girl and all the other brave spirits that broke in this hellhole. Jack began to shake. He pulled his hand back so George wouldn't pick up on his fury. Jack made them all a promise; he would raze this place even if it took his last breath.

The door opened, and Heckyl and Jeckyl dragged in the bloody body of Sam Walker. They threw bandages in the cage with him then dropped him in the dirt.

"Hey, let me over there. Let me help." The two clowns turned away. "Hey, Mr. Punch-face wants us to last longer, right? Get more money?" They stopped and looked at each other. One shrugged. Under the constant watch of twin AR-15's Jack was pulled over to Sam's cage. Jack's body twitched with the desire to escape. He held off knowing Sam and the other two prisoner's would pay the price. Jack forced in a deep breath as the cage slammed shut. He glanced at the two men in the cages beside the one he and Sam were in, Jack bent and rolled Sam over. A deep slice had cut down his shoulder. Jack bandaged it and gently wiped the blood off his forehead holding pressure on the bandage.

"Who...you?" The man farthest away asked. Jack eyed the man his eyebrows raised. The man had a dark mane of collar length hair streaked with white and blood. He also had a very British accent. The man had dirty bandages around his upper arms and a thick bandage around his thigh which was wet with fresh blood.

"SAS?" Jack asked. The man smiled. His ribs showed, and he had layers of old blood across his dressings and flesh. "I'm Jack. How the hell did you get here?"

"Was on loan...for training." Jack was nodding. The man's light brown eyes sank closed.

"Sorry, bastard." The other man whispered. He laid with his back to Jack, and his entire flank was bandaged and bloody. "His wife...loves carnivals…" Every breath was labor. He coughed weakly and didn't say anything else. Jack focused on Sam. The younger man moaned and slowly opened his eyes. He saw Jack and tensed.

"Easy, buddy, it's me. Jack." Sam looked at him bleary-eyed a long minute then his body relaxed. His eyes were very uneven. "Just lay back and rest." Jack managed to keep his voice gentle with the strength of will only. He looked up at Heckyl and Jeckyl as they entered. Jack smiled at the others. "Excuse me, fellas, I need to go get in some cardio."

The ring had more people in the bleachers than before, and their blood appetite showed in their enthusiasm. Jack's upper lip raised as he silently snarled in disgust. Normally Jack didn't condone mass murder, but for these assholes…? His feet skidded as they pushed him across the sand. It was looser showing several drag marks and blood puddles. Jack stared at them shaking his head. The crowd was chanting, "Jacky-boy! Jacky-boy!" Jack swung his arms and stretched his legs and knees. He reigned in his surging emotions like he was trained forging them into a spear of focus as he waited for the first fight of the night.

His opponent was Joey, a small man dressed as a hobo clown. Jack's strategic brain filed his appearance as useful and threatening. The man's clothes were loose, useful. He pulled out a san jie gun, a three sectional staff, definitely threatening. Related to nunchucks, each segment of the staff was two feet long and attached by two four inch chains. Jack backed up as Joey began to move his hands in figure 8. Jack mentally reviewed what he knew about the weapon. It was most useful at a distance, but in the hands of an expert, it could be as deadly as it's shorter cousins. Joey created a whooshing globe of movement protecting him in 10 feet of whirling wood, kicking up dust but not hitting the ground. Jack figured the man knew what he was doing.

One general rule of thumb Jack had learned a long time ago is, if the weapon was designed to work at a distance the best offense was usually to get in close. Jack scowled. That was the painful part. He didn't see any glint of metal, but even without blades the wood, if they were wood, would fly at speeds easily able to shatter even the thickest bones. Not good. Jack crouched and began to circle faster. It might make the weapon harder to maneuver. Joey didn't seem disconcerted. The man reminded Jack of a rat. He had a sharp nose and broken buckeye teeth. Jack dodged as he saw the man's right-hand flick. Jack grunted and fell to one knee. Rat Joey was fast.

Fast as a viper, the weapon snapped out straight at him and hit him again in the chest. Jack fell back. He groaned. He thought he'd felt a crunch in his sternum, and it hurt like hell. Jack heaved himself to his feet and turned sideways giving the man less of a target. Joey smiled, and the end of the staff swept down into Jack's thigh. Jack was knocked to the sand. The hobo stood over Jack raising the whirling staff over his head to finish Jack off. Jack smiled grabbed a handful of sand and threw it in the rodent's face. Joey blinked and shook his head. In that second of distraction, Jack lashed upward with his good leg. Joey backed up. Jack stumbled to his feet. His left leg wouldn't hold him, but he could still move his knee, so he didn't think it had broken.

Jack slowed his breathing and inched closer. Joey was swinging the weapon in a fast protective pattern. He was still blinking sand out of his eyes and leaning over. He could deal it out, but couldn't take it. Jack could work with that. Jack kept edging closer then waved his hand. Joey reacted instinctively. Even though Jack was too far away to touch the man, Joey lunged the moving staffs up to meet the attack. Jack groaned in agony as he pushed off with his good leg and slammed into the smaller man's waist. Jack rode him to the ground. He ignored the pain in his thigh and slammed the rodent right in his twitching chin. Jack landed two more rock solid punches before Joey mounted a counter attack. Jack fell forward with a cry of pain as a staff blasted into his back. The awkward angle lessened the force of the blow, but the hurt sure wasn't diminished at all. Jack grabbed the smaller man by his loose clothes and rolled dragging Joey on top of him.

On the one hand, it wasn't a smart move, severely limiting the use of Jack's arms, but it did pin the weapon under Jack's sore back. Joey's eyes grew wide as he desperately tried to free his staff. It didn't occur to him to use other methods of attack, like fists. He only knew that he found himself attached to a very, very pissed off Delta. Jack slammed forward with his forehead twice. Joey's eyes lost focus. His hands left the staff. Jack arched his back and twisted. He pitched Joey to the ground. Without rising, Jack rolled grabbing up the weapon. He sat up. Joey rose to all fours shaking his head.

"Yo, Joey," Jack called. Joey looked over and crawled back his face a mask of naked fear. Jack swung the weapon down at the man's skull with all the force he could muster. Joey flopped to the floor face first. Jack pushed up painfully to his feet. He could move his leg again, but he felt like someone had set the bone aflame like a torch. He folded up two of the staffs then in a move he knew from using nunchucks slammed down the staff on Joey's head with full force. After the second blow, Hekyl and Jekyl were on him pulling him back, pulling at the whirling weapon in his hand. Knowing he would regret it, Jack spun and slashed out with two devastating blows, felling both biker clowns. Jack grinned and took a step toward the door. There was a loud pop, and Jack staggered back at the familiar pushing burn of a bullet in the shoulder. It was his good shoulder. The staff fell to the floor, and his arm dangled uselessly at his side. He collapsed to his knees and glared up at a grinning Mr. Punch who stood up on his platform. The man was all in gold today, even wearing an elaborate crown with naked ladies and skull faced clowns woven into its gaudy filigree.

Jack growled and forced himself to stand up. As he swayed, he glared at the man. The arena went silent. Mr. Punch's grin faded a notch. He looked a little uncomfortable. Jack forced his shoulder's back. Maybe the crowd couldn't get its bloodlust fed by killing their prisoners too quickly. Jack didn't know but apparently, Mr. Punch had violated some code.

"Can't fight for yourself, can you? You coward!" Jack bellowed. Mr. Punch raised the gun sighting down at Jack's head. The barrel shook. The man's jaw was clenched tighter than a bear trap. Jack smiled. One of his super powers was pissing off people, and pissed off people made mistakes. "What? Going to end the fun for your customers?" The crowd began to boo and hissed. "I'd be happy to wait for you to get your fluffy bunny ass down here so I can show you how a real man can fight instead of having others do your fighting. Come on Mr. Punch-face, or are you spineless through and through?" The man's purple face bulged with thick ropes of veins. Jack smiled, calm even as the man's finger slowly twisted toward the trigger. If the man had a stroke, this would all be over, and his promise kept. Jack was ok with that, although his heart broke for Mac.

"I'm going to kill you...you...you are nothing, you hear me? You are nothing!" The crowd was getting frustrated. They started throwing things and yelling, hissing. Their anger became palpable, stifling the party atmosphere enclosed tent. Mr. Punch stared at Jack then slowly pulled in his finger and stowed the gun beside his throne. The crowd began to cheer and whistle. Mr. Punch sat back nodding to them with a fake half-smile. His eyes cut Jack with a promise of certain, slow death. Jack raised his hands and didn't resist as they shoved against the wall. His back wailed in agony. Jack forced his face to remain clean of any discomfort, his eyes never leaving Mr. Punch's. He smiled a small smile up at the man, claiming victory and making a few deadly promises of his own.

Mr. Punch called for intermission surprising the audience. The man swept off his throne. Several members of the crowd ambled out of the smoky warm tent. Jack sank to the dirt and closed his eyes forcing his breathing to maintain its slow deep rhythm. Other biker clowns came in and helped their comrades out. Jack was disappointed he hadn't killed either one, but the way they walked suggested they'd be calling in sick for work for the next week or two. Jack let out a soft yell of pain as he forced his shoulder and thigh to work. He guessed that the fights got harder as they went as people with better skill paid more when he proved himself a worthier adversary. Jack breathed out, feeling a wave of despair roll through him. In the end, it wouldn't matter how much of a badass you were. Barely fed, no medical help, unsanitary conditions eventually he'd fall. Then when he did, like hyenas on the smallest caribou they'd break him down piece by piece until he died wrapped like a mummy. Jack rubbed his face wincing at the pain in his knuckles. He flexed his fists. _Mac, brother, you can show up at any time to save your damsel in distress._ Jack wiped at his eyes and shrugged his shoulders to loosen the swelling football his muscles, tendons, and flesh had become. He stood up and began to pace. _Suck it up, buttercup. Mac will kill you if you get yourself dead before he gets here._

The loud buzzer sounded. Jack's heart pumped. His eyes trolled the walls of the arena. It felt like more people crammed into the space of the bleachers. Jack's eyes raked the crowd. Over the roar, he swore he could hear someone yell his name. He waited for it but didn't hear it again, if it had been there at all. Jack smiled. _It was Mac; it had to be. He's here working his ginormous brain to get us out of this._ Jack refused to think otherwise. The two figures entering the circle cleared his mind of any other thoughts than survival. _You have got to be fucking shitting me, mimes? Really?_ Two lithe women in skin tight matching black and red diamond leotards stood to study him. They had the upper bodies of gymnasts and lower legs of dancers. Their faces were eerily blank; Jack was beginning to think that was what was behind this clown theme. Difficult to read, fool's facial recognition and creepy as hell. Jack shook his head studying the women. They carried no weapon only stood still and relaxed, their white faces and gloves stark in the dim lighting. Jack had no idea how to prepare for this fight. _Martial arts? Gymnastics? Ballet?...or were they going to mime me to death._ Jack silently chuckled at the idea of suffocating inside an invisible box.

They were named collectively as Zanni. Jack frowned. After the cheers following their name announcement, they reached out, high-fived then glided apart flanking Jack with a primal grace. Jack's mouth went dry as he backed up, his arms up defending chest and head. He turned ¾ to the side and watched both of them as tightly as he could. They glanced at each other then moved.

"Holy Shit!" Jack squeaked. They both began a tumbling routine that would make the final five blush. One landed in a split in front of him and spun up. Jack barely managed to block her low blow. The other was in midair, and Jack staggered, his head snapped back by her foot. They kept moving and stepped back. They cocked their heads in unison then began to flank him again. Jack rubbed at the blood dribbling from his mouth. They were fast, flexible and skilled in using momentum in their blows. He doubted that they would stand up to a one on one very long. Jack scowled. Of course, how to get them one on one? Jack backed up as they began another tumbling run. Jack's back hit against the cage. He gasped and squinted, forcing his eyes to stay open. This attack was similar to the other one; only the high attacker was a hair quicker than her twin. Jac ducked. He smiled as the woman cried out her foot slamming into the metal of the cage. Jack grabbed the ankle and yelping in pain turned throwing her against the cage as hard as he could. He felt the bars shake and she flopped to the floor.

Jack didn't know if she was out and didn't have time to think about it. The other Zanni kicked up hitting his sore leg. Jack fell back with a howl of pain. Everything went dark and fuzzy; he was aware of the bitch straddling him hitting him with hard and painful blows He dimly noticed blood staining her dainty white gloves. One of the knuckles ripped on his cheekbone, and he saw a flash of brass. _The bitch has brass knuckles._ Jack yelled to get his adrenaline going; she'd made one major mistake. She got too close.

Jack slammed her in the head hard. He could hear the click of her teeth knocking against each other. Jack reached out and grabbed the woman's bare unpainted neck. Ever strand of his southern gentleman's upbringing screamed at him how wrong strangling a woman was, but survival trumps manners. Jack closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and twisted. He could feel her trachea crunch then twist. She fell back gasping for air. Blood sprayed from her mouth staining the blank white mask. Jack shoved her off of him and went to get up when a pair of legs wrapped in a perfect choke hold pulled him to the ground. He felt his right hand being grabbed and snapped over her knee. Jack's eyes closed and he screamed or would have if he had any air. The edges around his vision became black creeping spiders. Jack didn't have many moves left. He reached out with his left hand, pulled the woman's legs in closer. The woman murmured something in surprise. Jack reached down and dug his teeth savagely into her calf. He twisted his head pulling and tearing muscle tissue. The choke hold was release. The woman curled up holding her leg in pain screaming. Jack turned and spat out blood and meat, gasping in the air moaning as he used his left hand to pull his broken arm close. He turned to face her. She was moving to sit up. With the last of his strength, Jack pushed out his boot. It hit her in the throat. He thought he could feel something break, but sunk into a black pit before he could check.


	6. Chapter 6

The stone hallway was cloudy, its only lighting dim lightbulbs hanging from metal bars in the ceiling. Mac crouched breathing through his mouth to quiet the noise he was making. He leaned closer to the cold wall as he came across a sharp bend he couldn't see around. A desperate scream of pain caused his heart to flee like a rabbit.

"Jack." Mac sucked in air. The cry came again followed by sobbing and begging. Mac's jaw clenched as he inched forward. He came around the curve and froze in horror. He saw Jac strapped to a metal table with two clowns standing over him with abnormally large cleavers. They dripped with Jack's blood from thick strips of flesh cut from Jack's chest. The room around them was an empty circle of mirrors. Reflections of reflections rolled into infinities reflecting Jack's suffering. The screams echoed into infinity in Mac's heart.

Mac jumped forward kicking the closest clown causing the man to fall to the ground clutching his leg. Mac stomped his face beneath the red bulbous nose. Mac scooped up the cleaver and with both hands chopped it into the center of the other's skull. The blade stuck. Mac picked up the other one and dashed to Jack's side. He raised the cleaver to sever Jack's bonds. Jack looked up at him, terror in his eyes. Jack couldn't shy away.

"Jack, it's ok, it's me," Mac said. Jack closed his eyes and turned away screaming. Mac frowned and looked up into the mirror. His mouth fell open. "No."

An enormous looking clown in a baggy white costume with full polka dots leaking blood, a tiny hat surrounded with a puff of red hair, flesh tone grease paint with white around the eyes and mouth, and a wet dripping mouth of blood-tinged fangs looked back at him. A cruel laugh escaped…"NO!"

Mac bolted upright in bed sucking in air. He was wet with sweat, and his side ached like a migraine. Mac took a deep breath swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced up, Bozer and Riley had closed the door between the two rooms. Mac guessed that when Mac had drifted off, they hadn't wanted to wake him up by their talking. He rubbed his face with both hands and looked down. His side was still holding fast. It was a bit red and irritated. _Probably get infected like last time._ Mac smiled at the memory then shook his head. He looked over at the bed beside him and sighed. Mac leaned his elbows on his knees. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he'd been asleep two hours.

Mac stood up and peeked out the curtain. Snow was slowly floating to the ground. It fell at a casual rate, but it might as well have been a blizzard. Mac frowned. His plan had relied on the fair being open in the morning. If it were snowing, the carnival probably wouldn't open, not the legal part anyway. _Luckily I am good at improvising._ He gazed over at the other side of the bedroom. Jack's array of black clothes and personal needs belongings laid on the dresser, they hadn't moved since Jack had been taken. MacGyver felt a cold hollowness in his chest. _Is it only been two days? Seems like a lifetime._ Mac nodded his mind firming up his ideas. He had to go in now. He moved toward the door to wake up Bozer and Riley. His hand was about to knock then froze in midair.

Without having to deal with the problem of getting in through the gate, did he need to put his friends in danger? Mac stepped back and stared at the door a long minute. _I already lost Jack; I'm not going to lose Bozer or Riley too._ Mac spun and went into the bathroom. He brought in the other bags from Voldemart. Mac set out the makeup on the sink. He looked up in the mirror, and for a second he saw the clown that haunted his dreams instead of his face. Mac closed his eyes and shook his head forcing it all away. Resolutely he pulled out the makeup and working quickly and efficiently turned himself into a passable clown, or at least clown face. Some of the guards he'd seen had been in regular clothes, so he figured it was worth the risk to wear his own.

Glancing at his reflection, he shuddered. He had gone with the simplest happy clown face, but in the mirror, it looked like the face of a hungry skull. His stomach flip-flopped. He turned away and snapped off the light. He paused at the dresser to leave a note for his partners-apologizing and adding a backup plan. _Always good to have a plan B, C, D…_ He packed the wire cutters and medical supplies into the backpack they'd bought. He stowed his phone, an extra sweatshirt, and socks for Jack in a side pocket. He put on another layer of clothes and his leather jacket. Mac glanced around the room making sure he had everything. He left the room and snapped off the light.

Mac zipped up his jacket when he hit the frigid air outside. He paused scanning the parking lot. He smiled seeing a black SUV with plates that read "PNCH13." _Perfect needed to borrow a ride anyway._ Mac was in it and speeding on his way in less than a minute.

In the parking lot of the carnival, there was a line of identical suvs in a dark corner adjacent to the tree line. Mac parked as close to the edge of the pines as he could. He pulled out his Swiss army life and clicked on the flash. The snow was falling faster with huge flakes. The night was so quiet that Mac could almost hear the snowflakes land. In the distant direction of the big top, he heard the rumble of cheers and applause. He clenched his jaw. Was Jack fighting for his life right now? Mac picked up his pace. Keeping small he clicked off the flash as he approached the fence behind the stone office building. Mac crept as close to the big tip as Mac could get without running into the electrified fence. He pulled out wire cutters and cut a 3-foot flap that would be easy to pull back. He crouched inside the wall. Two burly clowns in overstuffed orange parkas passed to the front of the office. Mac paused listening.

"Yeah, Punch is pissed. Can you believe the brass on that guy?"

"The boss and Suzanna have something special for him after his last fight tonight."

"Well, won't have to worry about him fighting again. Almost feel sorry for him…" Mac licked his lips grimacing at the taste of greasepaint. He hid his bag beside the fence knowing he needed speed. Mac could guess who they meant. Mac stayed low until he hit a puddle of dim light. Mac straightened and walked casually. He knew he wouldn't be able to pass any deep scrutiny especially since Mac didn't carry a gun, but he hoped it would be enough to get him into the big tent.

A lady hobo clown passed him and nodded absently at him as they passed. Mac nodded back without breaking stride. As he was crossing the back of the funhouse, a group of ten clowns was standing further down the path smoking. Mac hunkered down and closed to the wall of the funhouse. Unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere for him to hide in darkness. The closer he got to the big top, the more lights there were. Mac frowned. Instead of the typical clown gear or street clothes, these clowns were in formal attire with only their faces painted as clowns or wearing masks that covered their heads. _Being a clown is one of the best ways of staying anonymous. Who thinks to look close enough at a clown to ID them? And forget facial recognition.  
_

"...losing it, he's almost delusional. I can't believe he just shot that guy."

"No kidding. That guy was awesome! Can you believe he called him a fluffy bunny ass?" The group laughed.

"I kinda wished Punchy went into the ring, wouldn't that be great?" The group of people began to move toward Mac. Mac frowned and ducked back. A pair of guards were walking behind him. Mac groaned. _Of course._ He shook his head, picked the lock and ducked into the fun house. As soon as he closed the door behind him, dim lights came on and a sinister laugh reverberated through the building. Mac shuddered his heart trip-hammering. He brushed the snow off his hair and stayed looking at the door, trying to tune out the horror behind him. The light shifted to an eerie black light, and the sound of a hundred screeching laughs blared from everywhere. Mac's breath doubled in speed. He scrunched his eyes closed and fought to keep from covering his ears or just giving up and running out the door. The light then changed to flashing color lights. Mac felt his stomach rumble. _Screw this._ He had his hand on the handle ready to duck back into the night, no matter what the consequences when he the knob turned. Mac gasped turned and ran into the fun house.

The lights made him feel like he was running in place. The floor shifted to a rubbery undulating floor. He fell flat on his face. He pushed himself up and staggered toward the area that looked darkest. He heard the door.

"Someone's been in here, see the snow?" The voice was a high squeal that reminded Mac of a nasal drive thru teller.

"We'll have to check the whole building."

"Probably one of the guys stepping in to get warm."

"Still gotta check."

"Yeah, at least it's warm."

Mac ran into a dead end-literally. He slammed into a padded wall completely hidden behind a perfect picture of the hallway. Mac fell back winded. He heard the voices coming closer. He scrambled to his feet and dodged into the only opening. Mac froze in horror as lights came up. He stood in the center of a ring of mirrors, each one reflecting him as a clown. Some showed him as only a couple of feet tall, some as a giant, some with a big head and the rest in other warped shapes. Mac felt his stomach heave and swallowed bile. He felt dizzy. Then the room filled with the sound of demonic children giggling. Mac backed against a mirror inside the entryway and closed his eyes. The light began to flick red and orange making it look like it was on fire. Mac tried to slow his breathing. The giggling turned into ice cream truck melodies loud enough to vibrate against his chest.

"I don't see anybody."

"Me neither. Probably just one of the guys."

"Suzanna's gonna rip 'em a new one."

"Glad it's not us." Mac waited until the clowns passed him then slowly followed them back toward the entrance. They looked back once. Mac was able to duck against the wall in a dark corner. His ears pounded with blood. Then they opened the door and stepped out. Mac crept to the inside of the door. One of them, a short mime lit a cigarette and waved the match out. He laughed.

"Would hate to be stuck in there for the night. Creepy as fuck!" Mac couldn't see the other clown but heard them both laugh as they swung the door shut and walked away, back toward the office. Mac managed to catch the door with his finger. His breath blew in his face as the frigid wind came through the open door. He couldn't hear anything so ducked out of the door. He shut the door behind him and leaned up against it for a long minute. He was shaking. The air was colder, probably below zero. He took in a cold cleansing breath and forced his rubbery legs to move forward. The group of fancily dressed patrons passed him heading back to the big tent. Mac ducked under the red legs of the zipper for them to pass. After they had entered the tent, Mac dashed to the side of the tent, almost tripping over one of the 2x4's scattered under the snow. He knelt by where he'd made the incision into the tent before. Someone had duct taped it closed. _They know someone's here. Not the best news._ Mac cut the duct tape with his Swiss army knife and slid into the dimly lit smoky interior. He was on a small wooden path 3 feet across that lead around the arena under the bleachers. He could see feet and legs hanging down. The air was thick with the stink of cigarettes, pot, and a smell Mac was too familiar with, blood. He straightened and strode confidently around. He found a path that crossed to the front of the bleachers to another wooded walkway around the wall of the ring. Mac stayed to the darker corners and slowly walked forward holding his confident stride even as his eyes darted taking in every direction and movement.

Finally, he was at the right angle to see inside the ring. He sucked in the air. Jack, a bloody Jack, sat leaning against the cement bottom of the cage. He was bleeding from a gunshot in his shoulder and as he moved Mac could see some of the purple-black bruisings. Mac didn't like the way Jack was walking or the despair in his eyes. Mac felt his eyes tingle. The crowd stood up and roared. Jack stood up favoring his left leg. Jack glared up at something across the ring from him. Mac scooted forward and blinked his brain trying to process what he saw. A large, dark-skinned man in gold, a lot of gaudy, glittering gold. He looked like a demented Oscar trophy.

"Hey, you!" A woman with wild blond hair and a face that belonged on Mt. Rushmore started walking toward Mac quickly. _Dammit!_ Mac casually turned as if hadn't heard the woman. He thought furiously. _I have to get to Jack before the end of his next fight. I don't know what particular thing Punch had planned, but it can't be good._ Mac was almost to the outer ring when he heard the sound of large feet pounding on the wood. He ran forward and dove out the slice in the tent.

 _Shit!_ Mac had caught a glimpse of three large clown shoes before something slammed into the back of his head. He fell face first into the snow. His side protested as he rolled over and kicked one of the clowns. Mac felt one of the 2x4s under his hand. He grabbed it in time to block a buttstroke heading to his face. Mac glanced over and lashed out with the board. He knocked one of the tent spikes loose. He swung again; the other clown kicked him solidly in his wounded side. Mac cried out but forced himself not to curl inward. He whacked the tent spike again. It went flying out of the snowy ground collapsing a good portion of the tent. The spike hit the nearest clown cutting open his leg dropping him to the ground.

Mac rolled away from another downward buttstroke aimed at his throat and got to his knees. He swung the board like a bat hitting the clown's wrist. Mac heard a snap, the man howled and dropped his AR15. _Two down one to..._ Mac didn't turn fast enough. The third man clubbed him solidly across his head. Mac fell into the snow blood running from his temple. He was out before he felt the cold of the snow.


	7. Chapter 7

Cold and pain competed for Mac's awareness. He moaned and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear away the feeling of chilled dryness. He moaned and let out a deep breath. Mac sprawled upside down and his face smooshed against a frigid red cage. His body was shaking, and every exposed area felt chapped red and raw. The bottom half of his body folded at the waist over a wooden bench. He pushed himself up. His eyes widened as the entire world began to rotate and he again found himself face first against the cage.

Moving just his head, which exploded into magnesium flares of pain, he wiped his eyes and looked down. _Oh hell._ He was in one of the carts of the zipper. Mac had been thrown into one then run to the top of the big boom. Every time he moved the entire ride swung dizzily. Mac closed his eyes. He used both hands to slide himself upright along the red wire until he was sitting on the floor of the cart with his knees bent in front of him. The cage swayed but didn't pivot madly. Mac's hands hurt he looked down his fingers were almost as red as the painted metal. He pumped a fist in both hands then tucked them under his shirt.

The snow storm had gotten worse. Mac could barely make out the ground. He blinked and shook the snow off his head. The world had gone from inky blackness to a smudged gray. It was near dawn. Mac studied the cart. It was wide enough to sit three of him. It was tall enough for him to sit comfortably on the bench, but narrow, the apostrophe shape conforming loosely to the body's shape. Mac shook his head. There was a pile of snow on the top of the cart, and every movement sent clumps raining down on him. Mac shrugged the neck of his coat up. Holding onto the cold mesh of the cart pulled himself up to standing. His stomach did gymnastic flips as he swayed side to side. He turned and sat on the bench. He wiped snow from his eye lashes and shook his head again. Squinting through the white, he could barely see the square roof of the office.

The door had a simple latch attached to the handlebars built into the handrail which usually locked over the laps of the riders. Mac closed his eyes trying to ignore the steel blade of pain sawing through his skull. He took a deep breath. _Can't help Jack from up here._ He stood up and braced himself. He took out his knife and at the crack of the door tripped the lock. The door flew outward, and Mac swung forward. He sucked in the dense air; his heart jackhammered against his ribs. He forced himself to put aside his fear of heights. _Truly a day for confronting my deepest fears, who needs therapy?_ Mac looked down. The carts below him stair-stepped at an angle to the ground. Mac leaned out and looked at the boom, brackets, and cables holding the vehicle on the ride. He dry-swallowed. _This can't be up to code._ They all looked too rusted and small to hold his weight. Mac had no idea how they were holding up the steel carts.

He bit his lip, shivering. _Well, this sucks._ He gathered himself, leaned back and began to rock the car. It groaned sharply above the growing growl of the wind and snow. Mac braced one foot on the bottom of the door, one on the seat. He took a deep breath then at the apex of the swing he awkwardly launched himself forward. Mac belly flopped on the top of the next car down. Breath whooshed out of him, and he scrambled for a hold as he slid in the snow. Mac managed to grab one small brace. He heard a loud creak and felt it bend. Mac dug the fingers of his right hand through the snow and the small openings of the cage.

Mac gritted his teeth and pulled his left hand off the cracking brace and grabbed to catch a hold on the cage. His skin ripped, and he could feel agony burn up his hands and wrists. His fingertips slid, blood dribbled along the snow he clawed through. Mac scrambled with his boots and awkwardly walked himself onto the roof of the ride. He shook out his hands and shifted. Hung over the swaying cart by his abdomen his side ached, but the super glue was holding. Mac slowly moved with the swaying and slid his way to standing. Holding onto two cables going from the top of the ride to the boom. Mac squinted through the worsening storm. He could no longer see the office, and the strong wind sandpapered his exposed skin. Mac swung focusing on the next ride. His foot slipped as he jumped. Mac cried out in terror as he fell short of the next cart and fell.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack screamed in pain, then gasped trying to suck in air. Sweat poured off of him; he felt lightheaded, dizzy and nauseous. He looked up to see blurry figures standing over him.

"That's better." A voice said. Jack panted realizing the pain in his arm was less than it had been. They dragged Jack to sitting and promptly dry heaved. He couldn't remember when he'd had anything in his stomach. He took in a deep breath and forced himself to take in his surroundings.

He sat on the edge of a flat metal table in an otherwise empty room. The walls, rough hewn dark gray stone, and the two lines of fluorescent lights over the table made everything seem too bright, surreal. Jack shivered. He wasn't sure if it was caused by the temperature of the room or because he felt so hot inside, probably from a fever. He looked up. Heckyl and Jeckyl held onto both arms, holding him up more than keeping him in place. Jack nodded and took a breath. He looked down. They had wrapped his broken arm in elastic dressing wound tight around plastic splints. His bullet wound had a thick bandage tinted with a small amount of blood at its center. Jack frowned, a deeper chill running up his spine. _It's never a good thing when bad guys treated you; it usually meant they wanted to keep you alive for some reason, and it was never a good one.  
_

"Alright, drag him out to the van." Jack looked up into the stone face of Suzanna, the lion tamer. _Now or never._ The movement came with thought. He shoved left elbow back breaking free of Jekyll's grip. Jack grunted through pain lashing out hitting the startled clown on the side of the head. While he was surprised, Jack slid off the table lashing out with a boot. Suzanna stepped back. Jack didn't pause he kept turning yanking his right arm free. A cry of pain escaped him. He hit Heckyl hard across the jaw with a left cross. Heckyl fell back. Jack's right leg buckled. He leaned heavily on the table and lashed out with a low mule kick. Jekyll howled in pain as his knee snapped in a direction it was not meant to go. Heckyl was back up. Jack hit him with a hard left palm strike to his jaw. The man's head jackknifed backward. Jack bent his left elbow and nailed Suzanna in the throat. She fell to the ground.

Huffing, dizzy, and fighting to keep his legs from failing him, Jack staggered to the door limping badly, his right arm pulled close to his side. Another clown was turning into the room. Jack made prongs out of the index and second fighter of his left hand and gouged deep into the man's eyes. The man screamed backing away blood running down his hands. Jack shook his hand as he stepped over the man's body. _Ew._

Jack found himself in a narrow hallway with several doors opening off of it. At the end of the hall to the left, there was music playing and the sound of many angry voices. Jack knew time was not on his side. He turned the opposite direction and ran as fast as he could. Three clowns came running down the hall toward him. Jack growled. Being in such a narrow corridor, the three were in a triangular pattern, two in front and one in the back. Jack bowled into them and knocked them aside like pins.

He'd bent and went left shoulder first into the last guy's solar plexus. Spinning he swung his elbow up catching the clown to his left in a bone crushing close line. The other clown was faster than him. Jack slammed against the stone. Everything blurred and dimmed. Jack bit his lip to keep himself awake. He let himself slump to the floor. The clown kept hold of him and ended up bending down awkwardly. Jack rolled onto his back and kicked out catching the clown in his chest with a powerful double kick. Jack felt a crunch. He moved stiffly to his feet. The man he'd tackled was sitting up. Jack snapped a kick across the man's face then lurched into a quick stagger forward. He cleared the hall and found a small alcove holding a screen door. He heard the sound of a lot of feet coming his way. _Dammit!_ He slammed the door open with his good shoulder and dashed out. He was dimly aware of being in a maelstrom of snow and wind. Another clown was coming at him. Jack stuck with the palm of his hand at the red round nose. The clown fell on his ass. Jack raised his foot to stomp the man's chest.

"Ow! Dammit, Jack!" Jack froze, mouth agape. The clown looked like the abominable snowman covered in a thick layer of snow from head to toe, but he knew that voice anywhere. Jack fell to his knees; tears burned his eyes with relief.

"Mac, oh my god am I glad to see you… what the hell are you wearing?" Jack couldn't see Mac's face but could almost feel his partner's eye roll. Mac bounced to his feet. He had a black knapsack on his shoulder. Mac pulled it off and retrieved a set of wire cutters. Mac jammed them into the door as hard as he could.

"Let's get out of here, big guy," Mac said bending to help Jack to his feet. Jack didn't miss the gasp of pain or the red stain of blood covering the white grease paint on the side of his face.

"Are you ok, bud?" Jack asked. His teeth began chattering. Mac didn't answer, he pulled out a sweatshirt, sweater and helped Jack into them. Mac helped him into a loose pair of sweats. As Mac was standing up, Jack grabbed him in a solid one armed hug. Jack sniffed not able to say anything. He felt Mac's body trembling. Mac leaned back.

"I missed you too, Jack." Jack could hear the break and thick emotion in the younger man's voice. Jack looked down, finding his throat suddenly tight. Mac grabbed his good shoulder, and they shared a grin. They could hear pounding from the other side of the door. Mac ducked under his partner's arm, and half carried him. Jack couldn't see anything in the blurring swarm around him.

They had almost gone the length of the building when Jack pulled Mac to a halt. Mac looked at Jack worried.

"There are other guys here, and a panther than needs to come with us…" Jack blinked the snow from his eye lashes. The snow was making him even dizzier. He knew his adrenaline wouldn't last much longer. Mac raised an eyebrow. _Panther?_ He shook his head.

"First thing's first, we have to get out of here, that won't hold that door very long." Jack would have protested by his leg gave out. Mac caught him and dragged him to a tall fence. Jack smiled seeing a sizeable square cut out of the wall. He pulled Mac in close.

"You are awesome; you know that?" Jack could feel Mac shaking his head.

"We aren't out of here yet." He lowered Jack carefully to the snow. Mac crawled through the snow then helped Jack through. Mac dragged Jack to his feet, but Jack couldn't hold any of his weight. Everything seemed to dim.

"Leave me behind." Jack slurred.

"Nope, not happening," Mac said. He dragged Jack up and squatted. He looked back at Jack and nodded.

"Dude, you…"

"Will you shut up and get on?" Jack sighed and climbed piggy back onto his friend's back. Mac staggered to his feet and shifted grunting with the weight. "Hold on." Mac gasped as he started off into the forest. Jack wrapped his good arm around Mac's shoulder and chest.

"I hate this." He murmured. Mac didn't answer saving his air for slogging through the snow. Jack's head fell onto Mac's shoulder. He was dimly aware of Mac stopping, leaning him up against a tree and tying him on before continuing the trek through the woods. Jack tried to stay away. _I'm supposed to carry him, dammit._ His eyes became too heavy. He closed them and took in the reassuring scent of Mac's leather coat as the world faded away.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack sighed breathing in the smell of pine. It brought him back to hikes and fishing trips with his father. Pine was the smell of the forest, clean air, and freedom from the emotional grime and violence of his everyday life. Pain interrupted his visual memory and shocked him back to the present. His eyes shot open, and he sat up tense, ready to fight. Jack blinked. _What the hell?_ Jack relaxed taking in his surroundings.

He was in a small shelter made from pine branches and snow. Pinecones burned in a shallow depression in the center. The little amount of smoke was floating up to a small chimney in the shelter made by branches. A steady stream of snow drifted down and looked like faerie dust as the flakes caught the light from the small fire. Jack looked down he was laid out on a pallet made from pine boughs and was covered with Mac's jacket, the black back pack was under his head. The shelter was quiet, but Jack could easily hear the blizzard outside.

His heart dropped as he saw Mac sprawled out on the other side of the fire. By the position of his body it was clear that he had been tending the fire then collapsed. He laid on snow packed ground. His body was shuddering, and Jack could see the snow had melted and was freezing again.

"Mac!" Jack shoved aside Mac's jacket and crawled the couple of feet to Mac's side. A wash of dark blood was dark against the deathly pallor of his face. Jack sucked in the air on the verge of panic until he remembered that his partner wore clown greasepaint. "Mac, buddy?" Jack put a trembling finger against Mac's carotid. He breathed out. Mac's pulse was steady and even. Jack put the back of his left hand against Mac's face and scowled. The kid's skin was cold. Jack winced as he bent and lifted the younger man under the arms and dragged him awkwardly over to the pallet of pine boughs. Jack sat back stretching out beside his partner. He reached back; his broken arm screamed in protest as he grabbed Mac's jacket and spread it across the blond.

Jack put Mac in a comfortable position and felt along his skull. Jack found two huge bumps that were still oozing blood. When he touched them, Mac moaned and moved his hand weakly as if to swat away the pain. He didn't open his eyes; the movement was little more than a jerk of his arm. Jack brushed the bristles of frozen hair back from the kid's face and moved the bag over under his head. Jack checked for other injuries; there were none. Jack sighed and smiled contemplating his friend. He shook his head as he realized all that the kid had done.

Mac had carted an unconscious Jack on his back for who knows how far, built a shelter and made sure Jack was cared for and comfortable before he collapsed. It humbled Jack. Jack looked at his fingers covered by blood and grease paint. More impressive than that he had somehow gotten the courage to dress as a clown. Jack didn't know if he had that cauliflower phobia or whatever, but Jack knew clowns freaked him out more than bombs, terrorists and even torture. What had it taken for him to become one?

Jack pulled the sleeve of his sweater up and carefully rubbed away the blood and clown make up. Mac growled and again twitched his arm. Jack chuckled. His amusement died when he saw the face under the mask. Mac looked haggard with well-worn creases of exhaustion purpled under his eyes. His cheeks were sunken. _Bet he didn't sleep or eat, and he came without Riley or Bozer, what's up with that?_ A thought occurred to Jack. He pulled up the layers of Mac's shirts to see the bullet crease. Jack's nose wrinkled when he saw the tell-tale signs of super glue bandaging.

"Oh, kid," Mac mumbled something and absently moved to pull his shirt down. Jack replaced it and stretched out beside his friend. He snugged the younger man in close shuddering at how cold Mac's body and clothes were. Jack draped Mac's jacket over both of them and let out a long sigh. His mind traveled back to the last time he'd had to glue the kid's side together. The resulting infection had almost killed him. Jack yawned.

The storm was too dangerous to do anything for now, afterward? Jack smiled as he drifted off to sleep. They'd rescue the prisoners, and take Mr. Punch down-hard.

 _MacGyver sits in a classroom, looking around him he realizes that it is his fifth-grade class. Danny Sandoz is passing notes to Darlene Martin, they both turn and laugh at him. Bozer and Riley lean in together in their seats in front of Mac. Mac can't hear them. Mac reaches in his back pack; his homework isn't in there! Mac begins to panic; he has to get it in...something bites his hand, a clown's face with sharp bloody fangs in a wide happy smile stares up at him with hungry eyes. 'Hello, MacGyver!' Mac screams he tries to get out of his chair, but it has clamped around him. He reaches for Riley and Bozer; they turn their faces transformed into identical clown faces. They both tilt their heads in sync 'Hello, MacGyver!" Mac looks back desperately. Donny and Darlene and all the other kids wear the same masks. All the fake smiles begin to laugh, a manic cruel laugh. Mac's desk tips over. He sprawls under it. Mac kicks it off him and scrambles to his feet running out of the classroom. The hall is narrow, winding, dark; mirrors line undulating walls and a rubbery floor bucks him back and forth. The laughter follows him. In every mirror is the face of the clown in white with red oozing polka dots, holding the giant hammer. Mac blindly runs, the grinding noise gets louder the walls suck in, he can't breathe...a hand grabs his, Jack! 'C'mon, bud, c'mon." He pulls Mac to his feet and leads him unerringly down the winding corridor. It constricts and dilates like a throat swallowing them. A waxy white hand reaches out from the mirror and grabs his ankle. Mac falls onto the rubbery tongue. Jack claws for him. Jack is slowly folded into the mirrored wall. All the mirrors change into his bloody face reaching, screaming Mac….'Mac! Mac!'...Mac can't reach him...The cold clinging snow turns red and smells of dead flesh. The clown with the dripping froth smiles down at him and steps on his head with a giant shoe until Mac can't move...With savage glee, the clown raises his hammer and brings it down on Mac's face...Mac tries to move his arms but he can't...he closes his eyes and screams…  
_

"Mac! Mac!" Mac bolts awake, eyes wide, chest jumping fast as he tries to suck in air. His mouth moves, and he fights to escape. "Mac, MAC!" Mac's eyes search the small space wildly looking for the threat…

"Dammit, kid!" Jack pushed Mac back down. He'd tried shaking. Hating himself, Jack smacked Mac across the face. Mac jackknifed to sitting, his breathing sawing in and out. "Mac, wake up," Jack said holding onto Mac's arm with his left hand. Mac blinks slowly focusing. His breathing begins to slow. He turns to Jack and his blue eyes scan over Jack.

"Are you ok?" Mac asks. Jack raises an eyebrow and removes his hand. Jack lays back on his left side and bends his elbow, his hand supporting his head.

"I'm just dandy, how are you?" Mac shivered his entire body felt soggy and chilled. Mac rubbed his face with both hands, taking even breaths. Mac leaned forward closing his eyes; his head felt like giant fists were trying to pound their way through his skull. "...me?" Mac jumped when Jack reached out and tapped him on the arm. Mac looked down and managed a watery smile.

"Yeah, I'm good." Mac swallowed and cleared his throat surprised at how hoarse his throat felt. His arms crossed his chest, and he rubbed his upper arms chilled. Jack watched Mac's face grow flat; his eyes drift back to whatever horror he'd been dreaming. With a groan, Jack pushed himself up and draped Mac's coat across his partner's shoulder. Mac shot him a worried look and went to take it off to give it back to Jack. Jack stopped him with his left hand and maneuvered himself until he was leaning against a thick cradle of pine boughs built into the wall. Jack closed his eyes fighting nausea, pain, and fatigue. The storm still howled outside. The fire was down to barely glowing embers.

Mac rolled to a crouch and crept over to the far side of the shelter. Jack hummed. He hadn't noticed, but Mac had a sizeable pile of pine cones stacked there. Mac grabbed an armful and soon had the fire blazing. Mac held his palms out to the flame. Jack winced seeing the skin on his partner's hands. They were torn and scraped. Mac caught his look and glanced at his own hands. He snorted and shrugged.

"Zipper." He said. Jack knelt forward warming both hands. His swollen right hand had a strong regular pulse and normal coloring. Jack ran a hand along his chest and winced as the movement set his back on fire. Jack looked up feeling the weight of Mac's gaze as he studied him.

"What?"

"Are you ok? Seriously." Jack blew out a breath and ran his left hand through his short hair.

"I'm better than I deserve," Jack said softly staring into the fire. Mac studied him with a frown. His partner wore the same haunted look he did after a brutal, bloody battle. Jack was brutal and efficient when he had to be, but he was still human, and a kind one at that. Mac scooted to his side and put a hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack leaned in and sighed.

"What they're doing here.." Jack shook his head. Mac joined him in staring into the fire. Jack looked at him. "Mac, I think it's as bad as anything in Afghanistan. People pay money to dress up and watch real soldiers whose only crime is wanting to serve their country get beaten, broken and die." Mac swallowed and met his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Jack." He said softly turning back to the hypnotizing flames. The warmth and companionship filled the small shelter with a feeling of safety and peace. In contrast, the blizzard howled like a hungry beast outside. Jack looked up and smiled. Mac raised an eyebrow in question. 

"How the hell did you build this?" Mac shrugged and offered a small, lopsided smile. Jack shook his head reached out his hand and grabbed Mac's shoulder. "You are amazing, Mac. Thank you, brother." Mac nodded then turned back to study the flames. Jack patted him on the back and sighed. "I could go for some good ribs."

"Oh!" Mac said. He jumped up and dragged over the bag. Mac pulled out four water bottles, a pair of snickers, and a huge bag of trail mix. He handed it to Jack with a proud grin that slowly died as Jack stared at the provisions with less than enthusiasm. Jack took two plastic bottles of water and both snickers at Mac's insistence. Mac opened the trail mix and began to nibble. For all of his disappointment that was the best meal, Jack had in a very long time.

"Hunger makes the best gravy." Jack mused. Mac looked over at him confused. Jack chuckled, "It's something my dad would always say when he was heating up overdue left overs. Desperation makes anything taste good…" Jack pointed to the bag of trail mix. "...even rabbit food." Mac laughed and shook his head. Jack studied Mac as the younger man absently ate the trail mix and drank his water. "Hey, Mac?" Mac looked at him. Jack looked down, took a deep breath, and met the blonde's eyes as the younger man waited. "What were you dreaming?" Mac scoffed and looked away, putting another pine cone in the fire even though it didn't need one. Jack leaned over and grabbed the younger man's arm.

"No, I'm serious, bud. It was one of the worst I've ever seen you have and I know you've had a few doozies." Mac tried to pull away; Jack held on. Mac shot him an annoyed glare; he turned the glare to the fire.

"I guess I've had to face my worst fear this week." He said softly. Jack nodded and sat back.

"Clown and heights." He said with understanding. Mac shot him a look.

"Yeah, them too." Jack smiled fondly at Mac as his brain realized what Mac meant. He leaned forward and grabbed Mac's shoulder. His smile vanished when Jack felt Mac physically flinch. Realizing what he'd done, Mac turned, studied the fire, pulled his knees to his chest, and clutched them close with a tight embrace of his arms. Jack didn't like the wall raised between them.

"Mac, talk to me? What's going on?" Mac dipped his head into the cradle of his knees. Jack's alarm grew. "Seriously, dude, what is it?" Mac raised his head, and Jack could feel the muscles under his hand tense. Mac was ready to bolt. Jack put weight into his grip making Mac look at him. Mac's eyes were red rimmed. Jack wasn't surprised no tears fell. "Ah, kid." Jack leaned forward and wrapped Mac into an engulfing brotherly hug. Mac's muscles tightened, Jack didn't care. He just pulled Mac in closer. Mac let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. He bent into the hug and returned it. Jack smiled to himself. For all of his protestation, they both knew Mac's embrace was just as strong as Jack's. Of course, it was Mac who broke away first. He leaned over and took a sip of water while surreptitiously swiping at his eyes. Jack smiled and leaned back pretending he didn't notice.

They sat sipping water side by side. Jack let out a contented sigh. _It isn't a beer on the deck, but I'll take it.  
_

"So what's up with clowns?" Jack asked. He didn't turn to face Mac but watched his reaction out of the corner of his eye. Mac visibly twitched as if Jack had just punched him. Being the genius he is, Mac found the perfect non-answer.

"They are perfect for fooling ID software and perfect for a place…" Mac grimaced. "Like this." Jack turned to glare at him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you so scared of clowns?" Mac's Adam's apple bobbed, and he squirmed.

"They don't scare me; they just creep me out." His voice was quiet. He stared down at his boots as he fiddled with one of the shoe laces. _Horseshit!_ Jack knew better than to attack Mac's denial straight on.

"Ok, so why do they creep you out?" Mac smirked and glanced at Jack.

"Don't they creep you out?"

"Well sure, at least they do now...stop trying to distract me. What is it with you and clowns?" Mac absently began to pull green fronds off the pine boughs by the fistful. His jaw tightened.

"I don't know clowns are just...creepy. You can't see anything...you can't tell what they're going to do or if they...what they're thinking or feeling. They could be sad…" Mac's eyes brimmed with tears he looked down and sniffed visibly pushing the tears away. "Or whatever and you can't tell under all that make up...the face smile, eye…" Mac trailed off and closed his eyes. Again he could feel the clown with the fangs, and blood-sore polka dots stand behind him, watching him the hammer ready to smash in his face. Mac shook his head and let out a deep breath. He could feel Jack study him with the familiar mix of concern and pity that annoyed Mac the most. He stood up and began to straighten the pine boughs back into the pallet they had been. Mac was relieved when Jack didn't say anything only took a sip of water and studied the fire.

The silence stretched between, strained with what was unspoken. Mac looked down and sat back next to Jack. He took a bracing breath and met Jack's gentle brown eyes.

"I don't know, Jack. Whenever I come across one, I see...I see…" Mac faltered. He realized he was shaking. Jack put his jacket around him.

"See what?" The older man asked softly. Mac huffed.

"It's stupid. In my head I know it's just a guy in a mask, makeup or whatever…"

"But?"

"But every time I see one, I remember...another clown, but I don't know from where. He's tall in a white costume that had red polka dots that seem to ooze blood...and his face.." Mac closed his eyes and pulled his knees in tight hugging them. Jack's heart skipped a beat, his imagination picturing nasty scenarios where a clown could scar a child MacGyver. Jack winced as his right hand automatically tried to make a fist. Mac turned to face Jack with a mixture of sadness and frustration.

"I can't remember where I saw him from or when or why…" Mac got a far away look. "But when a clown looks at me, I feel small, vulnerable...hunted. You know, in my brain I know it's stupid, but it's like he follows me around waiting for…" Mac sighed his voice trailing off. Mac ran a hand through his hair. It was finally starting to dry. Jack waited, but Mac didn't go on.

"Waiting for what?" Mac snorted and shrugged.

"I have no idea. Now and then I'll see this clown like he's there physically...I know it's my imagination and I know I'm stupid...crazy. But it feels like he's standing there in front of me, watching, hunting...with his giant hammer…" Mac swallowed and shook his head banishing the ghosts. He forced a smile and looked at Jack. "Other clowns don't scare me, but they...remind me, or bring him back somehow." Mac waved a hand. "I don't know. It's irrational and makes no sense. Like I said, stupid." Jack laid his hand softly on Mac's shoulder. He could feel slight trembling under his hand.

"It's not stupid. We all carry baggage in different sizes and shapes. Sometimes when we think we dropped it off and lost it at the airport, it comes back, and busts open throwing your underwear all across terminal 8 when you're late for a flight to Chile…What?" Mac burst into laughter.

"a.) you suck at metaphors, b.) I think you brought your own...dirty laundry to this metaphor and c.) Chile?." Jack shrugged.

"Might be a little rough around the edges, I admit, but what I'm saying is sometimes things haunt us. They may be big things or small things, but they are never stupid." Mac nodded and turned back to the fire throwing in another pine cone. Jack recognized the thoughtful expression on Mac's face. "What's up, bud?"

"I overheard them say that this was an annual masquerade, that it goes on for two weeks every year. Riley found out it's been going on for 15 years…" Jack's eyes widened then narrowed into sharp bladed.

"These scum bags have been killing real American soldiers for 15 YEARS?" Mac nodded and shot Jack a sympathetic smile as the older man fought to maintain control.

"I figure that they have to have ties to the DOD, but it can't be held here every year for the entire two weeks, that would draw too much attention." Mac again absently attacked the green fronds. He tilted his head looking at Jack a long time.

"What?" Jack demanded.

"I also heard them say they had something special for you, something worse than fighting here; they gave you medical attention...I think they were going to take you to another site."

"Where they'd hold other sorts of fights." Jack said nodding, "Makes sense, but this storm probably got them stuck here." Mac shrugged.

"Riley said they owned the hotel and that place is…"

"Too big for a little shithole like Owensville." Mac nodded. He reached over to the bag and pulled out his phone. Mac pressed speed dial and waited. Jack sat up alert at the alarm on Mac's face. "Wha…" Mac put the phone on speaker.

"...for a call, Mr. MacGyver." Mr. Punch said, "I have your young friends and if you and Mr. Dalton don't come fight for me... do I have to spell it out?" Mac swallowed and shared a dangerous glare with Jack.

"Where are you?" Mac said his voice calm and steady.

"I think you know. See you by sunset? Ta."

"I hate that guy," Jack said. Mac nodded.

"Yeah, me too."


	9. Chapter 9

Mac dialed Matty. When she answered the relief in her voice was almost palpable. They updated her about the situation.

"Riley and Bozer called earlier, they say you left them a note...after leaving them alone without a word." Mac looked down pointedly ignoring the sharp look Jack sent him. "Reinforcements are en route. They had to stand down in Denver while the storm passed, the storm is breaking up. The FBI, ATF, DHS and the national guard have joined with Phoenix tactical." Jack raised an eyebrow.

"National guard?" Both of them could hear the amusement in Matty's voice.

"Evidently the governor is a Marine and took the situation personally." Mac and Jack shared a smile.

"What's their ETA?" Mac asked. They could hear Matty talk to a muffled voice.

"The team leaders estimate 16:00." Mac glanced at his watch and frowned.

"That doesn't leave us much time." Jack smiled at the familiar expression on his partner's face.

"So what's the plan?"

"Matty, have the teams converge on the hotel quietly. If we can get the hotel empty, remove the spectators that'll buy us some time."

"The guests are the spectators?" Matty asked.

"As small as this craphole town is, yeah," Jack added.

"No matter how quietly we move, it's still going to be noisy," Matty said.

"By then it won't matter. We'll have Riley and Bozer." Jack shot Mac a puzzled frown. Mac smiled. "He wanted us to fight at sunset, that's what we're going to do." Jack grinned and nodded. _Finally!_

"You do know it's a trap?" Matty's voice had a note of resignation.

"That's what I'm counting on."

"Matty, do we know anything about this Mr. Punch-face asshat?"

"Riley sent some footage she got from their facial recognition system. His name is Manley Vale…" Jack's eyes widened.

"Any relation to General Veil?" Mac shot a questioning look at Jack.

"His son."  
"Who's General Veil?" Mac asked.

"He's one of the generals who supervises the special forces branches of the military," Jack answered looking like he was going to be sick.

"He was the oversight for the Navy," Matty added.

"Was?"

"He died two years ago, assassinated by a former SEAL member. An investigation was active looking at accusations of sexual improprieties, fraud, and other criminal charges."

"Was he in on all this crap?" Jack's face reddened with anger.

"It hadn't even been on the radar, but he must have been helping with recruiting, bringing in fighters and setting up the soldiers."

"How many soldiers, Matty?" Jack whispered.

"We don't know, Jack." Matty's said subdued. A heavy pause hung between them.

"What else do we know about Manley?" Mac asked.

"Evidently he tried to get into the SEALs and washed out on the psych evals." Jack snorted.

"There's a shocker. This fucker is crazy as a legless coyote." Jack drawled. Mac's forehead wrinkled, and he shook his head.

"No argument here," Matty said.

"It would explain why he trapped special forces, " Jack mused, "he ranted about being better than us."

"That explains the carnival." Mac stared down and fiddled with his boot laces. Jack didn't like the pensive turn his partner's expression had taken.

"What do you mean, Mac?" Matty's voice was gentle. Jack nodded. Riley would have told her about the effect of this on Mac.

"He wants to be the ring leader, the puppet master bucking the rules." Mac sighed and shook his head. "I should have recognized the name Mr. Punch." The self-recrimination was almost physical. Jack reached out and touched Mac's arm. Mac pulled away without looking up. Jack didn't know if it was intentional or not.

"What are you talking about?" Jack's voice carried his frustration. Mac shot him a sad smile.

"Most historians say Mr. Punch was the first clown. He was part of a puppet show that started in Europe in the middle ages; it's still popular today."

"You mean Punch and Judy?" Mac nodded. Jack's brow creased in confusion. Mac looked at him with a familiar forced patience.

"He was a wife-beating satirical commentator on society. At the end of the show, he even defeats Death in a fist fight."

"Satirical...what?"

"He was a medieval Archie Bunker," Matty added.

"Oh, gotcha. So Punchy thinks he's a badass who can kill death?" Mac nodded and shrugged. Jack smirked. "Let's go disavow him of that notion, right?" Mac grinned back.

"Oh yeah."

It had taken another half-hour before the blizzard diminished enough for them to travel. During that time, the trio hammered out the details of their plan. Mac laid on the ground and kicked a portion of the shelter with both boots. Jack opened his mouth to point out that there was no way he would be able to break through the snow covered wall. His teeth clicked with the surprised shutting of his mouth. Jack shook his head following Mac out into the snow. The younger man had rigged a pine awning over the door to keep it from getting buried. _Why do I even question anymore? Of course, Cairo was his fault.  
_

"Coming?" Mac held out a hand. Jack grabbed it, and Mac pulled him to standing. They leaned against each other for a minute both lost in their aches and pains. Jack blinked through the snow. He guessed about 18 inches of snow had fallen. He glanced at Mac. _How much snow did the kid have to carry me through?_ Mac got his bearings and led them back to the carnival grounds. They had to rescue the soldiers before leaving. _And George._

"You're insane," Mac said shooting Jack a glare. "Panthers are wild animals; you just can't come in and expect it to be tame." Jack glared back. Mac didn't understand why this was so important to Jack. Jack huffed. Honestly, he didn't know why himself. There was a connection between them. Jack's cheeks dimpled with a small smile. It was the same feeling Jack had when he'd first met Mac.

"It'll be okay," Jack assured his partner. He winced as he stepped over a log. His leg, chest, and back were better for the rest but were still unreliable. Mac offered a hand. Jack nodded his thanks, but his leg held.

"How are we suppose to get him and the soldiers out in time to get to Owensville?" Mac grimaced in exasperation. Jack grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

"You better get to figuring that out, bud." Jack recognized where they were and took the lead. Mac stared at the back of the Delta's head and wondered if it was too late to send him back. Mac shook his head and ran a hand through his hair shaking out the falling snow. Jack looked over his shoulder at the mumbling MacGyver. "What was that?"

"If I end up as cat food I will kill you." 

"Fair enough." Jack laughed.

The stench of blood, shit and human decay assaulted Mac as he followed Jack into the area where the older man had been a prisoner. Mac paused, his heart thudding with disgust as he took in the cages. Thinking of Jack kept in this dirty, inhumane place, sent fury thrumming through Mac-his hands clenched and he ground his teeth together. Thankfully only Hank, who had already been dead remained.

"The other soldiers must have been taken to the hotel." Jack didn't answer. Jack yanked the panther's cage open and knelt beside the animal. Mac hurried over. Mac frowned. The lions were all dead, shot in the head. 

"Mac! George is alive!" Jack cried looking up. George lay on his side. Blood covered the large cat's head. The panther lifted his head weakly and licked at Jack's hand. Mac sighed. Either there truly was a strong connection between the two, or the animal was trying to eat Jack and didn't have the strength. Mac shook his head and bent down. Goerge's breathing puffed against his hand. Golden eyes watched him, and Mac heard a definite rumble. Mac felt a pang in his heart. He reached out and patted the wounded cat. His fur was thick and matted. George laid a massive paw on Mac's hand. Mac smiled in wonder and looked up to Jack who watched tears in his eyes. Mac put a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder.

"If I can do surgery in the back of an SUV without tools, how hard can bandaging a panther be?" Jack nodded. "I'll be right back."

Mac scoured the area and found a shelf covered with dressings and bottles of cleaners and cleaning tools. He returned, cleaned and dressed George's wound.

"It's only a graze. I'm no vet, but I think he's going to be ok." Mac said. George stayed still only offering a tail twitch or soft growl as Mac worked quickly. Jack ran his hand gently along the panther's back murmuring softly. Mac's mouth quirked at the corners. Jack used the same tone and touch he used to calm Mac after a nightmare or if the blond was wounded.

Mac stood up and gazed around.

"What are ya doing?" Jack asked as Mac moved to the door to the cage. Mac didn't answer. Jack looked down at George when Mac didn't answer.

"Don't worry fella; he's always like this." George let out a huff and closed his eyes. Mac removed the door and laid it down. He cut 12 strands from a mop head and wove them together. With these, he quickly tied a broom handle and mop handle to either side. Mac shrugged out of his coat and laid it across the door. "See told ya," Jack said softly. George put his paw on Jack's leg.

Mac and Jack quickly laid the panther on the door. Jack shucked out of his outer sweater and laid it across the big cat. Mac raised an eye brow but didn't comment. Mac paused gathering some chemicals.

"What are those for?" Mac shrugged. He stowed the bottles on the edge of the impromptu carrier. They lifted the litter and left. At first, Mac had thought to take one of the RVs from the caravan behind the big top tent, but they had all vanished. Other than the zipper and the Ferris wheel, the entire Carnival was picked clean. The bare booths were locked shut. The dogs were nowhere to be seen, thankfully. The snow stopped. Mac and Jack shivered and panted as they slogged through snow that came up to their thighs in some places.

The parking was empty except for a dented pick up truck from the late '80s that had rusty gardening equipment in the rotting wooden bed. The inside of the truck smelled like old leather and sour sweat. The two men nestled George in the back seat. The panther's eyes slit open, and they earned a tail twitch. Jack shot Mac a worried look. Mac sighed and shrugged. Jack's eyes hardened.

"I think it's time to take the fight to Mr. Punch-face." He muttered as he climbed into the driver's seat. Mac shivered and blew on his hands as he rubbed them together. The engine mumbled and stalled twice before the whole front end rocked back and forth, and a plume of blue smoke exploded out of the tailpipe. Jack had to ramp the engine to keep it running. Soon the truck was thundering slowly through the deep snow. Jack glanced over at Mac who had his Swiss army knife out and was cutting the cleaning chemical bottles and mixing chemicals. Jack grinned and focused on coaxing the best speed he could get out of the hobbling wreck. He glanced at the sun which was barely hanging above the horizon and mashed the pedal harder.

A bright blood colored sunset was barely creasing the hotel when Jack drove the truck onto the curb in front of the main doors. Jack glanced at George.

"Be good, buddy, we'll be back." The panther licked his hand softly. Jack left the keys in the ignition and hopped out. Mac was rummaging in the back. "C'mon man, it's time." Jack groused. Mac nodded and smiled. He pulled out a length of twine and threw something at Jack. Jack caught it automatically. He grinned. Mac had taken apart a rusty pair of shrub trimmers and threw him one side. Jack swung the wooden handled blade. It had a terrible balance, and the rusted blade didn't look sharp, but Jack could work with that. "Yeah, my man Geekachu!" Jack gushed. Mac glared at him, holding up a finger. He opened his mouth, shook his hand and turned to lead the way into the hotel. Jack followed loosening his wrist by swinging his impromptu blade in a tight figure 8.

Clowns filled the lobby. Jack glanced over at Mac. The younger man swallowed nervously but didn't lose his laser focus. He cut the twine, stuck one end in the liquid of one of the chemical bottles and tossed it at the clones who yelled in alarm and scattered as they shot off a storm of bullets from their AR 15s.

Jack grabbed Mac and dragged him behind the desk. The desk clerk on duty, a skinny man with metal glasses that reminded Jack of an ostrich, yelped as they ducked beside him. Jack nodded,

"Hey." The man stared at him eye brows climbing into his bangs. There was a massive boom, screams then showers of glass and body parts. Jack shook his head getting rid of the ringing in his ears. Mac bobbed up and ran down the hall with his deer-fast lope. Jack grabbed one of the ARs and scanned the lobby. Nothing moved. He turned and sprinted after Mac. Mac held the elevator door open. Jack checked over the weapon as they rode down. Jack didn't waste time asking how Mac knew where they had to go.

"So much for quiet," Jack said slinging the rifle on his shoulder. He winced at the pull along his sore back.

"They have an army." The elevator was quiet. The two watched, waiting impatiently for the doors to open.

"Not an excuse."

"Wasn't offering one."

"'Kay." They shared a glance and stepped out facing the rest of the clown army.


	10. Chapter 10

The elevator opened to a rectangular hallway. Across from the elevator were red double doors, they were inset in a mural of a clown identical to the one on the gates of the carnival. Jack glanced over at Mac and saw a flicker of fear that was gone as quick as it came.

"You ready for this?"

"Absolutely." Jack let the AR 15 hang from its sling and held it pointed at the floor. Mac shook the remaining two plastic containers then nodded at Jack. Mac kept the containers close to his leg and followed Jack through the doors.

"Well ain't this special," Jack muttered. Mac silently agreed. His blue eyes scanned the room, the arena; he corrected himself. The red door opened onto a platform that had a small staircase in front of it leading down into what looked to have been an Olympic sized pool. Along the edge of the pool stood the army of clowns. "That's a lot of clowns," Jack whispered.

"52," Mac replied. Jack gave a sarcastic smile.

"No problemo, they don't have guns." Mac scoffed. It was true, none of the clowns along the poolside had the familiar AR 15s. Most of the clowns had bladed weapons ranging from daggers to swords; a couple had spears, the rest had baseball bats or lead pipes. The clowns began to yell threats and heckle Mac and Jack.

"I thought clowns weren't supposed to speak," Jack whispered.

"I wish. Look there's our host." On a raised dais across from them, there was a large throne of red and gold. Mr. Punch paced in front of it yelling into a cell phone. He waved his empty hand. His face was purple and matched the bright purple tuxedo he wore. His head was bare, but his face was a Dia Del Muerte Baron Samedi.

"Somebody's having an unhappy day," Jack said with sarcastic sympathy. Mac smiled. Rising from behind the clowns were rows of bleachers stepping almost up to the ceiling. They were completely empty. "I hope he doesn't cancel this," Jack said seriously. Mac nodded. There had been the worry that without spectators Punch would leave in the huff and kill Riley, Bozer and the three remaining soldiers in retaliation.

"I think he will. Everything is about pride with him." Mac murmured. As if answering this prediction the man snarled and threw the cell phone into the arena. Punch paced then stopped and visibly calmed himself. He grinned and clapped his hands together.

"Ah, gentlemen, on time. I would have expected nothing more from the Army."

"Ouch, feel that bitterness?" Jack said with a smile.

"You're going to poke the bear aren't you?"

"Isn't that what bears are for?" Jack took a step forward and raised his voice. "Yeah they taught us that in the military, they were unusually strict in special forces, not that you would know anything about that would you Manley." Mac snorted, he didn't think anyone could make the man's name sound like a slur word more than Jack did. Mr. Punch sputtered, his hands formed into fists.

"You are going to pay for that!" The man's voice had risen two pitches. He made a motion. Heckyl and Jeckyl shoved Riley and Bozer forward. The two agents helped two heavily banded soldiers. Sam Walker shuffled behind them, holding his arm across his chest. He glanced up at Jack and smiled. Jack nodded but didn't change his expression. Jack wanted all of Punch's attention on him and Mac. "Maybe I should have them shot right now?" Heckyl and Jeckyl raised their AR 15s and grinned. Jack shared a glance with Mac who nodded. They slowly began to separate.

"Oh come on, Manley, I thought you liked the show the flare." Jack flashed jazz hands. He turned to Mac, "I told you he was a coward didn't I, bud." Mac grinned back, for all the world looking like he was relaxed.

"You did Jack. I didn't believe it but…" Mac shrugged.

"You! How dare you! You are not better than me! These are my games; I am in control." Jack stopped moving and casually braced his AR 15 for action. Mr. Punch's face changed. He got a sneaky smile on his face as he sat in his throne and slowly crossed his legs. Jack glanced at Mac. To his surprise, the younger man crept back to him. Jack eased in the blond's direction. "So I'm the coward? You brought a gun to fight some amateurs with a knife, are you scared?" Jack raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to reply when Mac caught his hand. Jack glanced at him and saw the glint in Mac's eye that meant the younger man had a plan.

"You're right. It would make us cowards to gun down all of the your...friends. Hell, they only have blades and clubs, after all, so we'll lay our weapons down and take them on one on one." Mac yelled. Jack frowned.

"We're going to do what now?" He whispered.

"Just trust me, lower your weapon as if you aren't going to use it." Jack smiled beginning to get Mac's idea.

"I like how you think." Jack relaxed his grip and even raised his hands letting the rifle hang loosely from its sling.

"I know." Mac moved the bottles behind his back and tried to look innocent. He looked up into the frightened eyes of Riley and Bozer. They had been forced to sit, probably on a bench. All the prisoners were bound and gagged. Mac offered them a smile he hoped was reassuring. Mr. Punch laughed.

"Very well, enter the arena. My friends will come at you one at a time."

"Yeah, right," Jack grumbled. The pair stepped down to the floor. They shared a nervous glance. The walls around the rectangular area were higher than they seemed from the top. The jeering clowns slowly filed down the stairs on the other side and streamed into the arena. They shook their weapons while yelling insults and making suggestive comments and lewd gestures. They eased forward. Jack and Mac waited. Mr. Punch stood up and laughed with a high porcine squeal.

"Get them! Smash them to bits and their bits to mush!"

"Well, now that's not nice," Jack said calmly lifting the AR 15. In short controlled bursts he dropped almost half of the writhing mass of angry clown coming their way. He pulled the makeshift blade out of his boot and shrugged the rifle across his back. Jack moved to step forward. Mac caught his arm.

"Not yet." The remaining clowns jumped over the corpses of their companions.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Trust me." Mac waited until the entire group was 20 feet away then lit the fuses and lobbed the two explosives. He grabbed Jack and spun him around. Both ducked their heads and covered their ears. The double explosions sent them to their knees. They shook their heads and staggered to their feet turning. There were about 15 clowns still standing. These pulled themselves together and yelled ran forward. Jack met them. The blade he held was dull so the best use of it would be straight thrusting attacks. Suiting the action to the word, Jack ducked a machete swipe and stabbed the clown in the throat. He left the hedge trimmers in the man's throat and took the man's blade instead.

A spear thrust toward him from his right. Jack ducked under it wincing as his right arm had raised automatically. He felt the bladed point scrape along his back.

Staying low, Jack pivoted and sliced the man across the abdomen. The man's eyes seemed to bulge as much as his red nose. Jack was dimly aware of the slosh of organs and blood; his focus was on the next attack. Three came at him simultaneously. Two went for his arms and one his chest. Jack dropped and swept the leg out from the one on his right side. He spun to his knee and slashed down almost slicing the man's head off. Jack rolled backward narrowly avoiding a scythe. Jack shook his head.

 _Never choose weapons by how cool they look._ Jack kicked the handle of the scythe, and the unwieldy weapon fell from the man's hands. Jack slashed with the machete scoring the left femoral artery. Jack jumped to his feet and staggered as his leg protested and threatened collapse. The third clown pressed his advantage and slammed his baseball bat down at Jack's head. Jack managed to pivot enough, so he took the blow on his right shoulder. He fell to one knee crying out in pain. Agony rattled along the entire right side of his skeleton. He shook his head and saw the clown swinging for a home run. Jack relaxed and let himself fall backward onto his back. The clown overbalanced with the strength of his swing. Jack lashed out with his boot catching the clown on the knee. The clown swore. With his knee turned sideways, Jack hooked his left foot around the man's ankle and pulled toward him while lashing forward with his right foot. The man's knee twisted then snapped. The man screamed and dropped the baseball bat. Jack fell back moaning as the baseball bat landed on his sore sternum.

Jack forced air in his lungs and lurched to his feet. Somehow he still held the bloody machete in his left fist. A clown with a lead pipe came running at him. _Seriously?_ The man had the pipe raised over his head and was making to slam it down on Jack's face. Jack didn't miss a step, he slashed the clown across the throat and stepped around his falling body.

Jack assessed the situation. Mac had a bat in his hand and was swinging a

Winning inning. Mr. Punch stood above them frozen in surprise. Their eyes met, and Jack smiled. Mr. Punch shouted something. Jack didn't get a chance to listen to a body slammed into his middle pulling him to the blood slick ground.

Jack had taught Mac that the only useful part of a baseball bat was only the first 4 inches of the thick end. Most people swung like they were going to hit a ball, this compromised the strength of the blow, could lead to shattering of the bat and cost valuable time with the momentum needed for an efficient swing and recovery. Mac used the bat horizontally to block and jabbed or hit at an angle.

Mac blinked sweat out of his eyes and winced as a punch snapped his head to his right, he staggered. The clown in front of him lashed out with a front stomp. Mac curled over his abdomen unable to suck in the air as he fell back. He curled up as his attacker, and two others kicked him. Mac cried out and swung the bat low catching one of the clowns across his ankle. Mac rolled in that direction swinging the bat up between another clown's legs. The man dropped without making a sound. Mac turned to the third clown and received a boot across his face. Mac fell back shaking his head trying to bring the world into focus. The edges of his vision wobbled and threatened blackness. He looked up in time to see the man swinging a bowie down at him with a double handed swipe. Mac rolled onto his back and managed to catch the man's hands. The man dropped knee first onto Mac's chest. Mac cried out in pain and felt something crunch. His arms went weak, and the knife came slicing down at him. Mac managed to lift his head to the side. The 10-inch blade sliced into his right ear lobe. Mac barely noticed. Bracing himself for agony, he slammed the top of his head into the bridge of the man's nose. Blood spurted, and the man screamed.

The man's grip on the knife loosened. Mac grabbed the handle and twisted. Now the knife was in his grip he slammed the handle up into the clown's broken nose. The man howled and ducked back. Mac raised up and bashed him in the nose again. The man fell backward off Mac. Mac curled to the side and coughed. He winced at the agony and frothy blood that spurted out. _Nicked a lung._

"Kill them!" Mac looked up the two clowns watching the prisoners raised their rifles toward the prisoners. One of the soldiers, Sam-Jack, had said, Managed to tackle one. The other two soldiers piled on and fought as hard as they could Distracted, the other clown hesitated before raising his AR 15. In that pause adrenaline burning through him, Mac managed to raise up to one knee, aimed the knife and let it fly. Mac missed the man's arm. The clown had turned, so the knife plunged deeply into his chest over his heart. Mac let out a breath of relief then collapsed to the floor.

He heard a cacophony of gun fire and screamed; they seemed to echo down a long tunnel he was falling. His eyes grew heavy.

"Mac! C'mon man!" Mac knew Jack must have been shouting, but his voice sounded muffled by a strong wind. Mac's whole head painfully throbbed with his heart beat. He could dimly make out the blurry face of his partner and felt Jack lift up his shirt. Mac's head tipped to the side. Riley and Bozer, now free came skidding toward them. Mac let out a breath of relief, and his eyes sank shut.

Jack grimaced.

"Mac!" Bozer cried falling to his knees beside his best friend.

"Jack?" Riley asked her eyes wide with worry for both of them. The teams converged on the few left standing. Jack didn't see Mr. Punch.

"Dammit! Where is he?"

"What?"

"Punch, where is he?" Riley shook her head.

"Stay with Mac." Jack hissed staggering to his feet. His fury added strength to his battered body. He took off at a sprint. Recognizing him, two Phoenix tac team members fell in behind him. Jack whirled.

"Stairs?"

"This way." Jack followed the man gritting his teeth. His body felt like one giant bruise. He forced himself forward thinking of Hank, and all the other soldiers who lost their lives to this psycho. Jack found himself thinking of George and Mac. _Nope, this dude is dead he just doesn't know it yet._ In the lobby they found a small group of FBI and ATF agents on the ground, apparently shot. The national guard was guarding them as a group of medics worked on them. Jack ran around them.

Jack felt the pit of his stomach drop. The truck he'd parked in front of the door was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" He shoved through the door and scanned the parking lot. He blinked squinting past the flashing lights of all kinds of cop cars, fire trucks, and ambulances. There were hundreds of people scattered among the cars in the parking lot. A good number were hauled into paddy wagons. Jack ignored it all. He smiled. Punch had managed to cross to the darker side of the lot. The truck sat with its lights on. Over the commotion around them, he couldn't tell if it was running or not. Jack turned to the closest agent and held out a hand. It felt good to have a pistol in his hand again. He felt naked without it.

They ran to the truck. Jack waved to the other two agents. One ran around the truck; one covered the vehicle from the front. Jack inched up to the driver's side. The windows were too fogged for him to see anything inside. He glanced at the agent in front who nodded covering him. Jack ducked low, swung open the door and leveled his pistol.

"Holy shift!" The windows weren't covered by fog but by splattered by blood. Mr. Punch's head canted to the side a large chunk of his neck missing. There was no mistaking the claw marks on his chest or the teeth marks in his scalp. Jack smiled and looked at the back seat. George was calmly licking blood off the bottom of his right front paw. He looked up at Jack and blinked

"Good job, bud. Feel better?" Jack reached forward and scratched the panther behind his left ear. George leaned forward closing his eyes. The cat's throat rumbled with purring. Jack leaned against the truck. He let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumped. His leg finally quit. One of his men caught him and eased him down to the snow packed ground. Jack's body shook as the adrenaline faded.

"Hold on, Jack." The other agent said taking the gun from Jack's hand. Jack smiled up at him weakly.

"Don't worry, take your time. We're all good."


	11. Chapter 11

Jack opened his eyes and sighed. It was such a relief to have no pain. He blinked and frowned taking in his surroundings. He was at Phoenix medical. Along the side of the bed, numerous bags of fluid sprouted from an IV tree which was slowly emptying into his left arm. His right was in a hard cast that held it 45 degrees from his body. The cast engulfed his shoulder and upper chest. Jack blinked and smiled. On the cast, someone had written " Clowns-0, Jackass-an army." Jack recognized Matty's handwriting. There was also a "get well soon, love Riley" beside a bright pink heart. Bozer had written "baddest badass that ever badassed." beside a cool drawing of Jack in a hat and shades. Jack chuckled for some reason, Bozer had given him a smoking stogie. Jack looked up at a soft knock at the door.

Riley came in carrying a bouquet of balloons and Bozer followed a laptop and boom box and Jack's entire Willie Nelson collection.

"Hey!" Jack said grinning.

"You're awake!" Riley returned his smile and let go of the balloons. They floated until they hit the ceiling. Riley bent and gave Jack a cautious hug. Jack wrapped his left arm around his girl. He could see her eyes gleaming as she turned away. Jack felt a lump in his throat. Bozer also gave Jack a gentle hug. The younger man looked down. Jack could see the red rims of his eyes. He could also see Bozer's reluctance to meet his eyes. Jack had seen the look on Mac's face many times. He caught Bozer's arm. Bozer glanced at him. Jack waited until they had full eye contact.

"Bozer, do me a favor? Don't blame yourself. This crap wasn't anybody's fault except that psycho asshat Punch, ok?" Bozer smiled, and they bumped fists.

"Thanks, Jack."

"How's Mac?" Jack asked dread in his voice. He had ridden in the ambulance with Mac. The younger man's face had been as white as it was when he was wearing white face paint. An orange-red froth bubbled from the corners of his mouth with every rattling breath. Jack's anxiety reached danger levels when Riley and Bozer shared an anxious glance. Jack's cast prevented him from sitting up, but he grunted with the effort of trying. Bozer turned and put a hand on Jack's shoulder. Riley stepped forward.

"He hasn't woken up yet, Jack. He had surgery to repair his punctured lung but has a high fever." Jack sat back huffing.

"Fever?"

"Doc Carl says it's probably from gluing his side back together or from pneumonia."

"Pneumonia?" Jack's eyes widened in alarm. He wasn't surprised, Mac had barely begun healing from their last mission before all of this, and traipsing in a blizzard hauling a grown man on his back didn't help. Jack grabbed the blankets and threw them off of him. His leg had a brace on it from thigh to calf, effectively making it unbendable. "Son of a bitch!"

"You can't get out of bed." Riley went to pull the covers back over him. Jack glared at her.

"Watch me!" He slid his other leg off the side of the bed and was trying to raise up onto his good arm. Jack growled and muttered a long string of explications.

"Jack-" Bozer pushed on Jack's good shoulder. He received the full brunt of Jack's frustration.

"Bozer, if you do not help me stand up I swear you are going to have both arms and legs in a cast…" Bozer swallowed looking to Riley for help. Before she could say anything, a familiar pair of women entered the room. Matty took in the scene with a sigh.

"Dalton, get your ass in that bed and stay there." Jack met her even tone with a hostile growl.

"I'm not out of bed." Matty rolled her eyes and laughed. Jack's face reddened with anger. The other woman was a small red head with elfin features. She wore black scrub pants with a scrub top covered with cartoon syringes. Jack swallowed and relaxed back. Matty raised an eyebrow and smiled at the woman.

"Sally, I think he's getting a little of Mac's respect for you." Sally shook her head and smiled and crossed to the side of his bed. She took his vitals and checked his IV.

"No, I'm just starting to realize Mac might be right about you. What kind of nurse wears shots on her shirt?" Sally laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"One who has to deal with you and your partner on a daily basis."

"It's not daily!" Jack wondered how the woman had turned him into a petulant teen. He sobered, "Seriously Sally, how's Mac." Sally sighed meeting his gaze. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He's very sick, Jack. But this is Mac. I think it'll just take some time." With any other person, Jack would have thought they were just trying to placate him. Jack knew that Sally Weathers, the head of nursing in Phoenix medical, would never bullshit him. She might be a touch sadistic, but she was also genuinely caring, more so when it came to MacGyver. More than once the two of them had worked together to keep Mac on the straight and narrow. Jack nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath trying to prevent a yawn.

"I have to see him, Sally."

"I know, Jack. Doc Carl wants to check you over before you get up. After he sees you, I'll be back with a wheelchair." Jack opened his mouth to complain. Sally raised an eyebrow." or I can just leave you there until the Doc signs you off." Jack's mouth clicked shut into a scowl.

"Mac's right, you are mean." Sally smiled as if Jack had given her a robust compliment. She nodded at the others and left. "Hey, Sally?" Sally turned back. "Watch over m' boy?"

"You know I will." Jack smiled. Her voice always took on a note of fondness when she talked about Mac. Sally would never admit it out loud, but everyone knew Mac was her favorite, and everyone knew the feeling was not mutual. Some of their epic battles of will were legend around the office.

Jack yawned and closed his eyes in pain. Riley covered him back up. Jack smiled up at her. His eyes traveled to Matty.

"How are Sam and the others?" He asked. Matty crossed to the side of the bed and took his left hand in both of hers.

"They're in bad shape, but are going to be fine...physically anyway." Jack's jaw clenched. He felt Matty squeeze.

"What about George?"

"Who?" Matty glanced at Riley and Bozer. They shrugged having no idea. Jack rubbed his eyes yawning again. He knew he was going to fall asleep any second. Jack realized that Sally had slipped something in his IV. _Sneaky. Damn._ His eyes were slumping closed on their own accord.

"The Panther." Jack pushed his eyes open.

"I don't know, I'll check," Matty said. Jack picked up on the sadness in her voice and felt his heart sink. He was aware of the fate of most animals who drew human blood, especially wild cats. _It's not fair! I'll testify at the trial..._ Jack fell into an unmovable sleep.

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An irregular blipping pulled Mac from peaceful floating. An occasional, annoying blip, Mac amended. He slowly opened his eyes. Even turning his head took more energy than Mac had, but Mac managed it. He felt hot and cold at the same time. His body was trembling, a symptom of high fever. Mac's chest was wrapped in a thick white bandage some blood dripping through along his left flank. Mac tried to swallow, but his mouth seemed filled with sand. He moved his right hand slightly and could hear the grenade shaped drains rattle together. A plethora of IV bags ran into both arms. Mac's eyes focused beyond his bead with difficulty. Mac smiled.

"Jack." His voice was weaker than a whisper, but it was enough for his partner to put away the game he'd been playing on his phone. Jack grinned and awkwardly maneuvered the wheelchair closer. Mac took in the cast and brace on his knee.

"Hey, brother! How do you feel?" Mac managed an eyebrow lift Jack translated as a shrug. "Do you hurt?" Jack asked. Mac shook his head. Jack fished out Mac's right hand and squeezed it. Jack's hands felt blessedly cool and dry. Mac tried to squeeze back; he could only manage a wiggle of his fingers. He blinked to keep himself awake. Jack must have read his fatigue and frustration. "You came up from surgery only a couple hours ago, and you got a pretty good fever going." Mac nodded unable to hold his eyes open anymore.

Jack held onto his hand not wanting to let it go.

"I'm sorry, Mac," Jack said softly. He felt a faint twitch in his partner's hand. Jack felt his eyes tingle with tears. "I love you, boy." He could see Mac's eyes roll behind his eyelids but knew the kid didn't have the energy to open his eyes again.

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The mournful blare of Taps echoed across the cemetery bringing all life in its hearing to a stand still. Jack looked down at the casket absently wiping away tears with his good hand. Jack jumped at the 21 gun salute. Jack closed his eyes and looked down, his heart breaking.

"You ok?" Riley asked taking Jack's good hand. He shook his head but didn't look up. Riley put an arm around Jack's shoulders. "It's almost over." Jack nodded, took a deep breath and forced himself to straighten as the honor guard crisply folded the flag. Hank's widow received it with a strength and dignity only spouses of life long military had. The small group of mourners said their goodbyes to the slick black casket, some touching it, lips moving with words, two children left folded papers. Jack guessed they were Hank's kids. He wondered what they had written. More tears spilled when Jack thought of their father dying in a dirty _animal cage._ Jack waited until most of the mourners were gone before he had Riley roll him up to the widow. Up close he could see the tears.

"Did you know Hank?" Her voice was a throaty warble.

"No, Ma'am, not as much as I'd like...I…" Jack broke off trying to swallow around the ball of emotion in his throat. He forced himself to meet her sad eyes. They were an odd color violet. "I was with Hank when he died." The widow looked at him with a complicated mix of gratefulness, wariness, and pity. She knelt gracefully despite the heels and dress she wore. She grabbed his hand.

"I know you're the one that brought Hank home to me, thank you." Jack looked down unable to keep the floodgates closed. She leaned forward and hugged him. Jack wrapped her in a one armed embrace and cried on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't do more," Jack whispered. She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back wiping at her wet face.

"You got that son of a bitch, and you came back yourself. That's more than enough, but..." She hesitated. Her lower lip quivered. "I would like to talk to you sometime about his...his last moments." Jack nodded unable to speak. The woman stood up and glanced at the coffin sadly, distance to her gaze. "I just can't right now, but eventually…?" She looked down at Jack. Their eyes held each other for a long minute. He nodded.

"Anytime, and if you need…" She smiled weakly leaning heavily on a tall man beside her. Jack vaguely recognized him as the priest.

"I will." She said softly turning away. Jack leaned in his hand unable to stop crying. He found himself wrapped in Riley's arms. He could feel her cry too.

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Jack was quiet on the ride home. He sat in the wheelchair in the back of an exclusive use surveillance van Phoenix had repurposed for him until he was mobile again. Riley tried talking as she drove, but Jack's answers were monosyllabic. Riley smiled, Jack hadn't noticed the change in direction. She glanced at her watch. Bozer should have everything ready in the next hour. Perfect.

Jack looked up surprised when the van began swaying and bumping up and down. He glanced out the back windows but couldn't see anything except dust.

"Riley? Where are we?" Jack asked frowning. He'd told them he didn't want to be around anyone. It had taken half the staff of medical to shoehorn him into his dress uniform. With the tumult of emotions kicked up by the funeral, Jack wanted to get his uniform off then go back to the hospital to sit with Mac. Riley met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"We have to make one quick stop."

"Riley, I told you." His faint voice burned with anger.

"We're here." She said as she pulled into a dirt parking lot. She got out before Jack could say a word. She opened the side door and had him on the lift and out into the dusty air before he could do more than sputter and cough. She got behind him and pushed him toward a building that looked like a remote log cabin. Jack blinked and wiped dust out of his eyes. There weren't any signs.

"What are we doing here?" Jack groused.

"Visiting a friend," Riley said grinning. Jack ground his teeth and gave up. If he went along with it, this would be over quicker. There were double doors that opened into a lobby or office of some sort, Riley pushed past that staying the cement path around the side of the building. Jack perked his head up. Behind the building were many tall cages and in the closest clawing at the door when he saw Jack was George. Jack grinned. George licked his fingers when Jack stuck them through the cage. Jack marveled at how beautiful George looked. He'd put on weight, and his coat gleamed.

"Hey, buddy," Jack said. Riley pulled Jack away. "Riley, dammit!" Jack snarled trying to stop her. She pulled his left hand away from the wheel.

"Will you stop already? We got this." Jack sat back a wary look on his face. Riley smiled and pushed him around the cage to a multi-gated area. George ran along the cage his body graceful and fluid. His run reminded him of the deer's grace and speed Mac ran. Jack felt a familiar warm spot open in his heart. A woman with short straight dark hair wearing dirty jeans and a loose khaki shirt met them. She held out her hand. Jack nodded at her.

"This is Katya Norsuv she runs this place. It's a wild animal rescue for animals that illegally lived in captivity."

"Most of them abused." Contrary to her name, the woman had no accent. She had a no nonsense Texan drawl and a calloused firm hand shake. Jack grinned from ear to ear.

"Lone Star forever!" He gushed.

"Ooohrah!" The woman nodded. Her grin looked very much like George's. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Marine?"

"Semper Fi always and forever, Matty told me what had happened, and I knew George had to come here." Jack nodded.

"Thank you; he's gone through so much...how is he? He looks great." Katya helped Riley pull Jack's wheelchair through an outer gate, through a cement paved space. George let out little nipping growls, rolled in the grass then jumped to his feet pacing in front of the gate.

"He's a sweetie. He had to go to the vet before coming…" Jack looked up at her alarmed.

"He's hurt?"

"Yeah, evidently eating asshole can upset a kitty's tummy." Jack roared with laughter; then he was through the final gate. Jack opened his mouth to greet George but suddenly found his lap filled with panther. Two huge paws hung over his shoulders, and the big cat's head nudged against Jack's chin. Jack burst into laughter again when George began to lick his hair as if he were a kitten. Jack wrapped his left arm around the panther feeling the grief from earlier meltaway.

They stayed for an hour. Jack threw a beach ball made of hard plastic for George. George loped after it, swatted it back and forth then pounced on it grabbing it in his front paws and lashing out with his back legs as if trying to eviscerate it. Jack sat back and sighed with content.

"Are you ready to head home?" Riley asked. Jack snapped his head around.

"Home? No, I have to go back to medical to see Mac." Riley grinned.

"He went home today; his fever broke last night." Jack straightened his mouth agape.

"Why didn't anyone tell me? I could have…"

"Done what? Carried him in your lap as someone pushed you?" Jack closed his mouth. That had been what he had in mind.

"No, Doc Carl let him go home as long as he rests around the clock."

"Good luck with that."

"Sally's coming over while he's down." Jack laughed. _That'll be fun to watch._ Riley leaned down and whispered in his ear, "She's going to be keeping an eye on both of you."

"Shit."

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During the ride to Mac's house, Jack was much more animated. It was a relief to know his feline friend had a loving forever home, and Jack was elated that he could visit anytime. Riley's eyes rose with the enthusiasm Jack had while he talked about Katya.

"What?" Jack asked catching her look.

"Sounds like you and Katya had a little something going on" Riley laughed as Jack blushed a shade.

"Hey, she knows quality when she sees it."

"Maybe she just wants George to have his daddy." Jack rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Jack, repeat this, and I will erase you, she could do a lot worse."  
"Thanks, Riley, that means a lot." Riley nodded. The rest of the ride was quiet the van filled with the affection they shared for each other.

Bozer met them beside the driveway. The younger man helped wrangle Jack and his wheelchair out of the van and to the front door. Jack raised an eyebrow at the temporary steel ramp that covered the cement stairs.

"Oh, did I mention you'll be staying here?" Riley said.

"What?"

"Oh yeah, Riley and I are going to be nursing you back to health," Bozer said. Jack didn't like the glee in the man's voice.

"Oh boy," Jack muttered under his breath. His eyes widened, and he found himself grinning again. The living room had streamers and balloons everywhere. A banner in flashing lights reading "Welcome Home" hung over the door to the kitchen. Better than that, Mac grinned back at him from his nest in the recliner. He was wrapped in blankets and pillows and looked damn comfortable. Jack wheeled over to him. They fist bumped. The kid was pale and haggard but looked a whole lot better than the last time Jack saw him.

"You ok?" Jack asked.

"I'm home aren't I?" Mac said.

"Yeah, we are." A smell wafted over to him, his eyes widened and his mouth flooded with drool. "Is that steak?"

"Hell yeah, Jack, and it has my special sauce sizzling deep into the juicy meat." Bozer offered.

"Bozer, you're killing me, man!" Bozer laughed and went out to the deck where the grill puffed smoke. The doorbell rang. Jack looked over to Mac who shrugged as confused as he was. Matty led in four people. Jack turned and wheeled over to them excited.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jack said holding out his hand. Sam Walker grinned and bent giving Jack a bro-hug. He pulled a woman forward. Jack shook her hand recognizing her immediately by her round shape, and high horse shaped face.

"You must be Angelique? Your boy told me all about you and how beautiful you were." The woman rolled her eyes.

"Round like a blueberry and with a face like a horse?" She asked. Jack backed away a step preparing for a volatile reaction. She laughed and looked at Sam who suddenly found the patterns of the wood floor fascinating. Angelique nudged the man. Jack could hear the choirs of young love sing. She looked back at Jack "It's alright, he knows what I think of him too."

"Honesty is the building block of all good relations." Sam justified. Jack chuckled and greeted the Brit and another soldier. All three of them sprouted bandages and Sam was on crutches.

"Come in for steak?" Jack offered, he knew Bozer would have made enough to feed an army. Sam shared a serious look with the others.

"No, actually we have to return to the hospital. They only gave us leave to come here briefly. We...uh talked to Hank's widow and the others in our company and we...uh, wanted to give this to you." Tears leaked as Jack took a smooth hand worked wooden and leather case. On the lid the Delta insignia was embossed in the center, circling it were the insignias for all the other branches of the US military and the winged sword of the British SAS. Jack tried to swallow.

Matty helped him open it. Inside were a pair of gleaming six shooters both had pearl handles. Jack's mouth fell open in awe. These were authentic Colts from the 1880s.

"Oh...wow." Jack's said softly. He looked up at the trio. They snapped to attention and gave solemn salutes, the SAS man's salute palm outward. Jack nodded. "I would…" Jack nodded at his cast. The men relaxed and grinned. Jack handed Matty the box which she carefully closed and placed on the kitchen table. The four soldiers eyed each other their silence speaking volumes.

"Well, we don't want to be AWOL." The Brit said gruffly. Jack nodded and shook hands with all of them. They turned to leave. Matty patted Jack on the shoulder as she passed.

"I have to drive them back, don't hog all the cake Jack-ass."

"There's cake?" Matty rolled her eyes and led the way out. Sam waited until he was the last. He looked down at the floor obviously having trouble putting his feelings into words.

"Oorah, Marine," Jack said. Sam looked up and nodded.

"Damn right." Jack stared at the door a long minute after they had all left.

"Food's on!" Bozer bellowed as he waltzed in two trays of thick steaks balanced on each hand.

"Bozer that smells fabulous." Riley gushed leaning in for a deep sniff as the plates passed her. She followed him into the kitchen. Jack huffed and rolled over to Mac's side again. With his left hand and right leg, he was learning to scoot the chair easier. Mac had drifted off to sleep. Jack studied the blond's face thoughtfully.

"Stop staring; it's creepy," Mac said opening his eyes to look at Jack.

"Creepy as a clown?" Jack asked. Mac snorted.

"Is there anything creepy as a clown?" Jack thought about it and shook his head.

"Hell no." Mac smiled, and the two partners fist bumped. Bozer came in with two plates heaped with mash potatoes, greens, and steak. Jack grinned. Riley brought out a folding table and set it up in front of Jack; she cut up his steak for him. "Hey!"

"Relax, old man or your dentures might fall out." Riley ignored Jack's glare. They all settled in, and for a long time, there was only the sound of eating.

"I got a copy of that movie you know, the Batman one with Heath Ledger." The other three dropped their silverware and stared at him with hostility.

"What?" Bozer said, his innocent expression overdone.

"Where'd my six shooters go?" Jack grumbled.

"I'll get the bullets." Riley offered.

"I'll load them." Mac offered.

"Ok, ok, fine!" Bozer said raising his hands, palm out. "How about _It_?" Bozer laughed.

"Riley?"

"Yes, Jack."

"Go kick his ass." Riley was up and chasing Bozer around the house. They ended up on the floor of the kitchen with Riley on top punching Bozer, only half pulling her punches. Jack nodded and returned to his steak.

"So, Mac, what's up for tomorrow?"

"Sally's coming."

"Shit."

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 **Thank you, everyone for reading, commenting, favoriting and following-it is a writer's lifeblood! Lol. I have a couple of stories in the works, and Nightmare is being reworked so...I'll be back, heh heh. In the meantime, be safe out there and if you see an evil clown...well you know what to do (notice I said EVIL-contrary to how creepy they are most clowns are decent people who only want to put a smile on people's faces. Like nurses they often get portrayed badly in movies, so here's to both!)  
**


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